Celtic Verse
by j-mercuryuk
Summary: AU fic set in a Celtic inspired world. All is good in Radient Garden until a young blond boy is found exhausted in a ditch. His arrival will potentially send Radiant Garden into a downward spiral to its destruction.
1. Prologue

A/N: Heya, a new fic from me. I've been wanting to write something Celtic inspired for ages but could never think of a story, and then I listened to 'Mordred's Lullaby' and this started to take shape.

Though I've looked into Celtic life and culture I have taken artistic licence in quite a few places, especially when one considers that the term 'celtic' is a rather lose one. Also, as a quick warning, though generally speaking I've kept romantic relationships to their canon ones, other ones have changed :D That is part of the fun of doing a cross over AU after all.

Prologue

Rivulets of blood ran down Masume, dripping off the blade to fall in the growing pool below it. A soft pit-pat may have been heard if it wasn't for the muffled screams and cries that filtered through the walls from the outside. The scent of smoke, sweat and blood filled his nose as watched the blood weep from his sword. Around him the flames flickered in a slight breeze causing the shadows to dance against the walls.

Sephiroth had been told that Zanarkand was an ancient city, left by an even older tribe. It had stood for longer than any could remember; a massive stone monument to a people long dead. It had turned into a centre of worship for all the Gods and Goddess of the Celts, protected by strong warriors and a fearsome leader, and now it burned. It burned while its people were slaughtered and its leader lay dead at his feet.

Behind him the door creaked and the sound of familiar heavy footsteps made their way towards him. He didn't lift his head, watching the light patterns created on his sword and waiting for the younger man to speak first.

"Older Brother."

He pushed away the familiar stab of annoyance caused by his younger brother's presence, instead asking the more important question. "Loz; have you found him?"

"He is not here. It looks like he does not want to play with us."

The note of distress in his voice grated against Sephiroth's nerves but before he could tell the man to pull himself together the door creaked open again. As he listened to the lighter footsteps he reached to his belt and with a rough jerk pulled free a piece of cloth. Running it along his blade he cleaned Masume before the blood dried.

"Lord Jecht?" The newcomer spoke, referring to the corpse by Sephiroth's feet. The voice was young, almost too young to see this battle, and yet there was a sense of maturity that was lacked by his bulky, blubbery older brother by his side.

"Yes," Sephiroth didn't spare the dead leader a glance as he discarded the dirtied cloth on the corpse.

"What now, Brother? The child isn't here and we do not know which way he went; Mother will not be happy."

Sephiroth silently slipped his faithful sword back into its sheath. "No, she will be content."

Turning his back on his latest victim he faced his brothers. Yazoo; his long silver hair tied back for the battle and his quiver was empty. Sephiroth had no doubt that despite his age he had done well for himself tonight.

"This will be enough to satisfy the Goddess, she will be content."

"So we leave him?"

"No," Sephiroth's voice was firm. He stepped past his brothers, striding away without a backwards glance to check to see if they followed. "He ran from us and we cannot let our sacrifice go so easily."

"Sounds like fun," Loz's deep yet childish voice came from behind him, chuckling.

"But, we have been called back…for the moment. Yazoo," Sephiroth's voice demanded attention and Loz's chuckle was quickly cut off. "We're finished here; call back the soldiers."

"What about me?" The second eldest enquired.

"Help Yazoo."

The large doors of the building entrance loomed before them, silently challenging them to halt their march. The eldest brother rested his palms against the wood, "We're going back to mother," and he shoved the doors open to a world that was burning and screaming, drowning in the blood of its people.

End of Prologue

I'm not sure when I'll update this next; it'll depend on what kind of reception it gets and how much time I have. Anyway, I hope that was an exciting start.


	2. Boy in the Ditch

**A/N:** Very sorry about the wait for those waiting. I was without a fully working laptop for about a month so this is the first chance I have to update.

**Just as a quick important reminder**: Though I've looked into Celtic life and culture I have taken artistic licence in quite a few places, especially when one considers that the term 'celtic' is a rather loose one. Also, as a quick warning, though generally speaking I've kept romantic relationships to their canon ones, other ones have changed :D That is part of the fun of doing a cross over AU after all.

**Celtic Verse Chapter 1**

The world; it always hums. Sings. Whispers. Words that can't be heard, not by normal beings. From below the earth, from its soul, it calls out and speaks to those who can listen, whispers that ride on the wind that are beyond words and feelings. The dead call out, reunited with the earth they came from, they call out before they become completely one with the soul – the life stream. They wash over the child as she sits amongst the flowers. She pays little heed to the nonsense they call to her, more concerned with the task at hand. She reaches down and plucks another meadow flower from the damp soil, adding it to her ever growing bouquet.

And then it came comes – a new message in the air. She tilts her head as if it will help her hear the non-existent voice telling her something new and curious. Her previous task now seemed dull in comparison to the news and she stands, flowers clutched tightly in her hands. She turns and walks away, on the path down which the earth guides her.

(&)

The land of the Celts stretched from the mountains of Midgar in the East to the Great western sea of Atlanta, from the Calm Plains in the North, in which the holy city of Zanarkand stood, to the Obel Lake in the south which bordered onto strange kingdoms. The land was not one country, ruled by one man, but was divided into many smaller regions. The largest and most powerful was Dalmasca, but it was not the only region with power and influence.

Near the centre of the land was the region of Radiant Garden, a country known for its warriors, ruled by the Leonhart family. At the heart of the region, on the banks of the River Loire, stood the capital, Balamb. A road passed by the city and over the river, by the meadows and farmland that surrounded the large fort town. To the west, beyond the road, ran a ditch. Around the edges stood several small hills, none large enough to support a house, but large enough to for several young children resting in the shade of a large apple tree.

A cool spring breeze stirred the brown hair of the unspoken leader as his back rested against the trunk of the large tree. He and his friends gazed out to the scene below them, bored and at a loss of what to do as they watched the workers in the field. Normally he would be in lessonsat this time, either with his aunt or tutor, but not today. Today, he and his friends had the whole day to themselves.

A week beforehand, news had come to the town that Zanarkand had fallen in the night. The news had shocked the town and shaken his aunt, High Priestess Ifalna. She had not only spent a good few years apprenticing in Zanarkand but her husband had been in the city at the time. She'd been particularly quiet over the last few days, but it never seemed to dampen her son's spirit, while her daughter seemed oblivious to what the entire situation meant.

All free hands were now been called forward either to assist with the few refugees that managed to stumble to the town, delirious and exhausted, or with sent away to patrol the land. Everyone was on edge and the children could sense it but it was new and exciting. For the time normal activity had ceased and a new order of the day was in place leaving the children to entertain themselves. On most days they spent much of their day helping the adults but today they had been sent out of the way. It had been fun at first, having so much time to play, but they soon found themselves with nothing to occupy them.

"Squall," a chirpy voice called to the leader, "I'm bored."

Squall turned to the owner of the voice, Selphie, a girl with more energy then a herd of chocobos. Her mother made all the best clothes in Balamb for the richest men and women, and yet despite this, the girl's clothes were plain, a matter explained away by the sheer amount of dirt that covered the simple woollen dress. The child was often seen playing messenger for her mother.

After a thoughtful silence she announced, "I'm going to climb the tree." With that she bounced to her feet.

"You can't do that!" A new voice exclaimed. "What if you fall? Mama told us to stay out of trouble." Zell looked up at the brunette as she tossed a thick braid over her shoulder. Though the shortest of the boys, he was by far the strongest and the one who hated going against what he was told the most. If he thought they were doing something wrong, he would say so, and be the first to tell on them.

The small girl ignored him and walked up to the trunk. "Anyone else coming?"

Beside Squall a coppery haired girl shook her head, a strand coming loose from where she had tied it back at the nape of her neck. Quistis was the only child of a rather wealthy merchant. A man who could afford to pay for someone to teach his daughter to read, write and do sums. She was the only one of Squall's friends doing so, apart from his cousin.

Speaking of whom...

"I'll climb with you." Squall's cousin leapt up, his long brown hair flopping around him, enthusiastic as ever to join Selphie in anything she suggested. That was his cousin Irvine.

Selphie rewarded him with a bright smile, emerald eyes sparkling. "Help me up, then."

Irvine cupped his hands, interlocking the fingers, and knelt before the tree. Selphie placed her foot in the cupped hands, scowling in annoyance as the hem of her skirt caught under her foot. Lifting her foot, she rearranged the hem before pushing off the ground and grabbing the tree. Irvine wobbled under her weight and she scowled down at him. "Keep still." Her free foot found a place to rest and the other soon followed suit, allowing Irvine to stand.

"Squall! Squall! Squall!"

The four children on the ground looked round as the voice floated towards them, while Selphie continued to look for her next move.

A small girl was running towards them, a long brown braid flapping behind her. Squall's youngest cousin Aerith. She stopped beside them breathing heavily, her cheeks bright pink and strands of hair sticking to her face.

"Aerith, you're not supposed to be out here on your own," Irvine scolded his baby sister. "It's dangerous."

The little three year-old huffed. "You're here," she retorted.

"We're big," Zell answered for his friend.

"Well I wanted to find some flowers to give mama," she announced as if this excused everything. Before anyone had a chance to say another word on the matter she turned to Squall. Her green eyes seemed to shine with excitement as she spoke to him. "I found a boy!"

Irvine laughed. "You found three boys. There's me and Zell as well." Quistis giggled.

"No, silly," Aerith said to her brother, "not you." She turned again to her cousin. "I found a different boy. He's in the ditch." She ducked down, grabbing onto Squall's hand, and tried to drag the older boy away, pulling with all her strength. "Come and see. He's just lying in the ditch."

"You really found a boy lying in the ditch?" Squall asked, his curiosity rising with every minute. Now this was more interesting than watching workers in the field. It was probably just another one of those injured men from Zanarkand, but this time it was Aerith who had found him.

The little girl's head bobbed. "He's just lying there! Come on, Squall." She tried pulling him away again.

"Is he dead?" Zell piped up without thinking.

"No!" Aerith shrieked, causing Squall to wince. The girl's eyes started to fill with tears and she dropped Squall's hand. "He's not dead! Come on Squall I don't know what to do." Her lips trembled as the tears threatened to fall.

Quistis stood, a hand slipping round the younger girl's shoulders. "It's fine Aerith, we will all go and look."

Squall nodded and stood. "Show us where he is."

Little Aerith nodded, a smile sneaking back onto her face. Taking her cousin's hand she started to 'drag' him away in the direction of the ditch. Behind them, the rest of the children followed.

"Wait for me!" Selphie's voice rang as she desperately started climbing down from the tree.

----

Aerith dragged Squall to the road, his friends trailing behind them in a strange procession. They reached the ditch and she started leading the group along the side, looking down into the muddy trench as she ran along. She turned when the ditch did, going along a rarely used path from before the road had been established. Squall frowned down at the girl's back. He felt nerves stirring in him as they moved further away from other people and the safety of the town to which they'd been warned to stay close.Why was Aerith even down here in the first place? There wasn't a single flower in sight.

When he put the question to his little cousin, she didn't bother turning round as she threw a 'the earth told me' back at him. Squall shrugged. He had no idea what this meant, but he had heard the girl say it many times. Whenever his aunt mentioned the earth speaking, everyone seemed to take it very seriously. His father had told him that it made Aerith and Aunt Ifalna very special, but he still didn't really understand what it meant. After all, the ground couldn't speak.

Irvine had once tried to use that as an excuse to get himself out of trouble after eavesdropping on the adults. Ifalna had clipped him round the ear and told him that she knew he was lying. When he continued to insist that he wasn't lying his mother had told him that only women could hear the earth. Irvine had never tried using that excuse again.

"There he is."

Squall followed her index finger as she pointed to the bottom of the ditch. Sure enough, lying on his side was a boy smaller then Aerith, covered in mud and dirt. His friends came to a stop behind him.

"It really is a boy," Zell remarked, peering down.

"Of course it is, my sister did say," Irvine announced proudly.

"Is he alive?" Quistis' voice whispered by his ear.

Squall continued looking down at the boy. He couldn't really tell much from standing. Maybe if he could get closer; it wasn't as if he could do anything up here anyway. If he couldn't do anything from where he stood, there seemed little point in just staring at the boy, not to mention it would get very boring. The hasty trail of logic settled the matter for him. Without thinking of the possible dangers of what he was doing, he crouched down and lowered himself over the edge of the ditch.

Quistis' eyes went wide. "What are you doing?"

He paused for a moment,only to see his friends starring at him in amazement. "I'm going down to look at him," he stated, looking down again to search for some kind of handhold. "Selphie and Aerith, go get my father."

Selphie bobbed her head and taking Aerith's hand dashed off.

Squall half climbed, half sliddown the side of the ditch. He held onto anything he could while his feet struggled to hold their grip on the muddy earth. He gave up half way down, unable to go any farther as he in this way.He looked down, starting to wonder if this really was a good idea after all. At least it wasn't too far down anymore; he let go of the root he held and dropped down to the bottom.

He eyed the boy in front of him and took a step towards him. Now he was closer he could see blond hair peeking through the mud. He looked even younger then Aerith and his clothes were tatty. Drawn towards him, the boy forgot any caution he may have had before. He knelt down to look at him. The boy's eyes were closed and his skin looked pale. Hesitantly Squall reached out and laid a hand on his arm, ignoring Zell's warnings, and shook him.

"Hello? Are you..." and then, for lack of any other way to finish his sentence, said, "alive?"

Nothing.

"Is he alive?"

He leaned in towards the stranger and felt a sudden jerk of shock. He bit back the cry of surprise.

"I think so."

"Why?" It was Quistis again.

His eyes never left the boy's. "Because his eyes are open."

Two bright blue eyes stared up at him.

(&)

In the centre of Balamb, Laguna rested his back against the outer wall of the stone longhouse, half listening to his friend's report. The longhouse stood out in the town as one of the few stone buildings, but it seemed fitting for the ruling family to own such houses. It was Laguna's grandfather, Ansem the Wise, who had been the mastermind behind it. He'd established not only the boundaries of the land that Laguna now ruled, but had also built the town on the ruins of the old city that had once stood on this very spot. He had salvaged the stones to build the longhouses that stood beside Laguna now.

"It is not surprising," Kiros continued, speaking of the three refugees that had died over night. "It takes a week at least to ride by chocobo to Zanarkand. Most of these people," he indicated to the long house behind them that was usually used for feasts and Ceilis rather than housing the sick and wounded, "have been travelling for over two weeks with little water and untended injuries. I am not sure if any will survive."

Laguna frowned over at his friend. "Not very positive are we, my friend?"

Kiros shrugged. "The harsh truth."

"Why did they not stop at a closer village?"

"They were turned away. Some places took some refugees in and are refusing to house more, others will not take any."

"What do we know?"

Kiros raised a dark eyebrow. "About what happened? Nothing."

Laguna widened his eyes at his dark skinned friend. "Nothing? Nothing at all?"

"These people can barely tell us their names, let alone what happened to them. When they do, they are delirious and spouting nonsense about silver demons and shadows."

Laguna shook his head. "How many have made it to us?"

"Fifteen. Eight were already dead when we found them and none of those alive were children. I have heard that others have been found throughout Radiant Garden."

"I think," the chief began, "we should find out what happened in Zanarkand."

"You have a plan?" There was a chuckle in the words.

"I always have a plan."

Kiros snorted. "Just be sure to leave me out of it, I have become rather attached to my life."

Laguna gave him a look of wide eyed offence. "My plans are prefect."

"Perfectly insane."

Laguna crossed his arms in mock insult but his eyes slipped past his old friend. "We will discuss this later," he said, unfolding his arms and pushing himself off the wall. He placed a wide smile on his face that didn't entirely fit his mood, and Kiros turned to see what had caught his attention. Running towards them was the excitable Tilmitt girl, Aerith trailing behind her.

"Sir Laguna!" Selphie cried, waving her arm about as she skidded to a stop in front of them, curtsying briefly to them. She looked up at Kiros. "Master Kiros."

Aerith appeared. Giggling, she grabbed her uncle's trouser leg. "Uncle Laguna."

"Good afternoon. What can I do for two pretty little girls?" He crouched down to the same level as the children.

Aerith seemed to draw herself up. "I found a boy"

A mischievous grin spread across the chieftain's face. "Little Aerith found herself a boy?"

The girl bobbed her head and Laguna gave a heavy sigh. "Well, I will be sad to see my dear little niece married off so soon, but if it is true love, then how can I stand in your way."

His niece giggled again. "I am not getting married."

At this point Selphie seemed to unable to keep quiet any longer. "She really did find a boy. He is lying in the ditch. Squall told us to come and get you. He is covered in dirt."

Laguna hide his frown behind a light hearted question. "Squall or the boy?" He took a step past them, followed by Kiros and the girls.

"The boy."

A refugee no doubt, but if he was a child and there was a possibility that he was still alive he had to act fast. If he was dead, then he didn't want his son sitting by the corpse of some poor wretched child. It wasn't something he'd want any child in their seventh year to see.

"Selphie, run to the hall and tell High Priestess Ifalna that Aerith has found a boy." He missed out the fact that there was a good chance that his sister's assistance would not be needed. No point in unnecessarily upsetting the girls.

Turning, he scooped up his niece into his arms, giving his friend a look that said he should follow him.

"Now, let us find this little boy of yours."

(&)

The spring sun set behind the ruins of Zanarkand, bathing the city in a warm golden glow, and a stranger mused on how it was the only warmth left in the city. She looked over the city from her vantage point atop the old warrior's hall. The stranger found herself looking forward to the encroaching night; at least then she could pretend that the silence of the city was natural. It would be as if everyone was merely sleeping, if one ignored the fact that the city was burnt and falling apart. The stillness during the day seemed wrong, though. The unnatural state was impossible to ignore and put her on edge. It was hard to believe that the once great city had been reduced to this in a single night.

A pebble rattled across the roof, and she turned to see her companion walking towards her.

"I think I have dealt with the last of the fiends in the north." He stopped beside her and gazed at the city. "But one can never tell if they will return or leave the city alone."

She nodded. "The south is clear as well. Have you found any clues as to why they came here?"

He turned to her. "They were not the only ones to cause this; there are signs that there were others."

"Were they being controlled or simply taking advantage of the attack?"

"The slaughter was one sided – they were being controlled. I cannot say by whom, though."

"We have searched here for over a week and we have still have no clues. We cannot delay here any longer. We have done what we can." She stood, brushing down her skirt and gave sad look. "I feel sorry for them – everyone who was killed here."

"Do you wish to follow the attackers? The two do appear to be linked."

She shook her head and stretched out her arm before her. "No. This is sad, but it is none of our concern." She willed her weapon, a thing of legend and the key to her destiny, to appear in her hand. "We have more important matters to deal with. We cannot afford to chase phantoms when we have shadows to pursue."

**End of Chapter 1**


	3. Eavesdropping

A/N: Hey, I'm back. Finally dug myself out of that pile of work I had at the end of my year, I am very sorry about the delay though.

Okay, I got a question about the relationships (would have contacted you directly and soon, but I didn't have an email address, but it might be useful to clear it up for everyone anyway) and how I've changed them. So I don't drag this out too much, I've just stuck the explanation in the A/N at the end.

**Chapter 2**

The warm mid afternoon sun fell over the town as Squall followed in his father's wake, his cousins trailing behind him, as they made their way through the dusty streets. His gaze was fixed on the child in the chief's arms, his father's arms. The people of Balamb turned at the curious sight to stare, whispering under their breath to their neighbours as the small group passed by. When they passed such huddles, his father would call something out about Zanarkand to them.

When the small boy's eyes had met with Squall's in the ditch he had began panicking. He had started shuffling desperately away from Squall, and then, to make things worse, he had started crying as soon as the older boy had opened his mouth. It had frustrated the chief's son to no end that the child would not listen to him and calm down. When Laguna had landed at the bottom of the ditch the blond had fainted.

Squall sped up a little to draw level with his father. "Will he be fine?"

Laguna looked down at his son and smiled broadly. "Your Aunt is the best healer in Balamb, if anyone can help him, then it will be her." Squall nodded, not acknowledging that his father had side-stepped his question. "You can go back and play with your friends."

Squall shook his head, causing his father to sigh. "How did I know that would be your answer."

The man turned back to the path before them and the stone longhouses of his home that they drew closer to, nodding to the warriors that greeted him as they passed. He seemed unaware of the curious spark in their eyes, but Squall was very conscious of it. His skin prickled as he felt their gaze on them so that he deliberately remained close to his father's side as they crossed the yard.

"Laguna!"

Father and son turned at the sound of the cry. From the main hall came the chief's wife and sister; Raine and Ifalna. They quickly made their way towards the odd party.

Raine spoke again. "What is happening?"

"Another child has been found, this time alive. Ifalna I'll need your skills."

He stepped past the two women and strode towards the longhouse that contained the family's private chambers, Raine quickly falling into step beside him. Squall glanced up at the adults in confusion. Any survivors that had been found were always treated in the Hall, so why was this boy so different? Behind him he could hear Aerith speaking to her mother in an excited tone.

"Mama, I found the boy. Aren't I a good girl?"

"You are, my little one."

"Can I keep him? Please?"

"He is not a stray puppy; you cannot just keep him."

"But mama, I found him." He could hear the pout in his little cousin's voice as he followed his father and mother towards their home. However, as soon as stepped into the shade of the building and his father disappeared inside his mother turned to face him, realising that he still followed them.

"Where do you think you are going?"

"With father?" he offered hopefully.

His mother shook her head, crossing her arms, the distant sound of Ifalna disentangling herself from her daughter in the background.

"But I want to know want to know what is happening," he protested.

"We cannot have all of you crowding the room." He opened his mouth to argue and she cut him off. "If you must, then wait here or in the hall, but you cannot follow us." Ifalna brushed past them and disappeared into the building as well. "Am I clear?"

She looked sternly down at him and he nodded in defeat as Irvine stepped beside him, looking up at his aunt in disappointment. Looking at the dejected children, her expression softened and her arms fell to her sides.

"I shall come and find you when we have some news on the boy, but High Priestess Ifalna cannot work with so many people around her in such a small room." She rested a hand on Squall's head. "I will come find you later," and she too disappeared into the longhouse, leaving the two boys alone.

"Squall?" He didn't bother turning at the sound of Irvine's voice, merely making a noise to show that he was listening. "My father's not coming back, is he?"

Squall looked to his friend and cousin. The boy's gaze was fixed to the ground, a strained smile forced onto his lips as if he was simply joking, but manner and eyes betrayed his seriousness. They were at such odds with one another that it sent a chill down Squall's spin. This hopelessness and fake smile were not how he knew his cousin and he did not know what to say. The thought that his uncle would not return never occurred to him. Uncomfortable, he looked away again.

"He might," he offered as a pitiful comfort.

"How?" He could hear the sniffle in Irvine's voice.

He didn't say anything. There was nothing he could say.

(&)

"There is no reason to fret." Laguna beamed at the servant girl as he guided her towards the door. "My wife and sister have the matter under control, but I am sure that the priestesses in the Hall would be very glad of any assistance that you may be able to give them. After all, he is just like them, just another Zankardan." He gave her a gentle push out of the door and closed it between them.

"Liar," the soft accusation came from beside the bed.

Laguna took a deep breath and turned to face his younger sister, adopting a puzzled expression. "Who is?"

The high priestess didn't look up from the boy she treated. "You are. This boy is not Zankardan."

Laguna let his eyes widen. "Is he not?"

Ifalna looked up and fixed him with a steady gaze, as if she was the eldest. "No, and you know that full well. This boy," she indicated to the child on the bed, "bears no resemblance to a Zankardan boy. I can see that clear as day, even through all this mud and dirt."

Laguna leaned forward, as if to examine the child more closely. His sister was right of course, and he did know this full well. The child's skin was far too pale, for a start. The hot climate of the holy city turned its residents' skin a rich light brown, while the blond hair was a deep golden, not the pale silver gleam of this boy's hair. After a minute Laguna looked up and grinned. "By all the Goddesses, you appear to be right."

Ifalna scowled at him. "Do not play with me, brother." She turned back to her patient. "What are you scheming?"

"My dear sister, how can I scheme when I know nothing about the boy?"

"Then what are you up to?"

Laguna raised his hands up. "Nothing. I simply think it is best if his origin is assumed to be Zankardan for now. Aerith must have been led to him for a reason. It is just a feeling."

Kiros' voice came from behind him. "Laguna's infamous instinct; this must be leading to trouble."

There was a small laugh from Raine as she poured warmed water into a basin.

"Kiros!" he exclaimed in mock horror. "My instinct is infallible."

"You are of course correct," he conceded. "It always results in trouble."

Laguna looked round, wide eyed and searching for a heroic defender, but it was all in vain. Ifalna couldn't look as if she agreed more, while a small smile played across his wife's lips. He shook his head.

"Will no one come to the defence of your kin and chief?"

Ifalna didn't bother looking up to retort. "Why argue against the truth, kin and chief?"

(&)

"My, what a group of glum faces. Why so sad, little brother?"

Squall lifted his head from his knees and his face split into a smile. "Ellone."

His older sister smiled down at him, leaning forward and resting her hands on her knees. Her brown eyes, so different to the blues and greens of the rest of the family, were sparkling, and her dark brown hair fell forward from its place behind her ear. Her hair was one of the things that he loved about his dear older sister. It was short, falling level with her chin, a boy's length – but what amazed Squall was that he had never seen her hair fall below this level, neither had he ever seen it being cut. When he was younger he had asked his sister about this matter. She had told him that when she was very little a wicked fae had placed a curse on her so that her hair would grow no longer. Looking back, Squall doubted the seriousness of the story.

"So why does my family look so upset?"

Aerith brightened, realising that she had a new person to share her exciting news with. "I found a boy."

Ellone crouched down in front of her baby cousin, resting on the balls of her feet. Unlike Squall's peers and elders, she seemed to take the little girl seriously. That was another thing that he loved about his sister; she always listened.

"Really? What kind of boy was he?"

Aerith was silent for a minute, her face turning into a thoughtful scowl. "A dirty one," she finally said.

Ellone giggled. "All boys are."

"I'm not," Squall objected as he self-consciously wiped his hands on his tunic.

"You are one of the few clean ones," Ellone said, smiling.

Irvine jumped in. "What about me?"

"Of course," Ellone was forced to agree. "We have a family of very clean boys. Now," she turned back to Aerith, "Why don't we let Aerith tell me about this boy she found."

The young girl leapt into telling her tale with much enthusiasm, but little skill. "The earth told me and I found him in a ditch and I told Squall and he came and told us to get Uncle Laguna. Uncle Laguna took him away with mama and Aunt Raine and now I cannot see him. I want to know what is happening." She huffed out the last part, looking put out.

"That will not do; we cannot have you all miserable. If your smiles do not stay on your faces then you cannot guard them from nymphs and they will come and steal them away from you. Wendy says so."

Aerith immediately slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide and Ellone nodded solemnly and continued. "But, I may have an answer to your problem."

She stood up, needlessly brushing down her skirt and beckoned the others to follow her. Squall quickly stood and took off after her. They walked through the Hall, passing the sick and wounded and the priestesses treating them, towards the great chair that his father would sit in at the head of the room. A sturdy oak structure set on a stone slab so that it towered over everything else, covered in furs and backed by the Leonhart family colours. They passed it to the back door on the Right hand side. It was open now to allow easy access to the kitchen, but normally it would be locked and hidden behind a draping.

They quickly made their way past the small ante-chamber and into the main kitchen. Though only half the size of the Hall, it was still a large room, prepared for cooking large feasts and the hive of activity that accompanied such events. Now, however, the room was quiet, with only a couple of servants preparing food, broth, for the sick. They ignored the children who snuck round the edges of the room, more concerned with the task at hand than the games of young minds. Soon the small group arrived in the store room, and Ellone pushed the door to, letting enough in light for them to see the room clearly by.

Ellone turned to face her followers, and gave them a 'serious' look, placing her hands on her hips in what she felt was a very good imitation of her mother. However, Irvine spoke before she could.

"Ellone, we ain't hungry."

She shook her head. "You all have to keep this a secret. You must promise me not to tell anyone. This must be our own little family secret."

Squall's trust in his sister and curiosity overrode the questions on his lips. He nodded along with his cousins.

"And no one must make a single sound. Otherwise they will find us and we will be in a lot of trouble."

The three children nodded again, growing more eager by the moment. Ellone beamed at them and crouched down, brushing away the dirt on the stone floor. She then dug her fingers between two of the slabs and, straining a little, lifted the smallish block from its place and sliding it to the side. Squall and Irvine peered down into the darkness. Below them was not just ground or a hole, but rather a tunnel. Well, tunnel may have been a generous term for it, as it was far too small for an adult. It would fit Ellone in comfortably, but only because she was small for a child in her twelfth year. The sides were made of up of soil, and every now and then he could make out what he thought was a stone wall.

"What is it?" Squall asked

"Dark," muttered Aerith, standing behind her brother.

"A tunnel," Irvine stated.

"I know that," Squall answered with great indignation. "But…"

"Father says that the same people who built Zanarkand used to live here as well, but when Ansem the wise built Balamb the old city was in ruins. They used the stones to build our longhouses and the temple, and we built on top of the ruins which are still under us. So Wendy and I went looking for them. You can crawl between some of them and go all over the town. We even followed one that came out by the road."

She jumped down and fell to her hands and knees she crawled a few paces forward. "Are you coming, or are you going to stand there all day."

Squall quickly followed, lowering himself down.

"But it's so dark down there," Aerith whispered.

"Don't come, then." Irvine shrugged.

"But I want to know what happened to the boy."

"You will make too much noise."

"I will not," Aerith proclaimed loudly.

"Be quiet," her brother hissed. "Then follow us."

"But it's dark."

Squall looked up from where he was crouched. Ahead of him Ellone still crawled away.

"Sister, wait," he hissed after her, and looked back at his still arguing cousins.

"Are you coming or not?"

Aerith looked down into the darkness and at Squall, looking lost and uncertain. Squall looked back at Ellone, and then at his younger cousin. "Aerith, if you come down next, you will be between me and Irvine. Will you come then? We can look after you."

She hesitated only for a minute before nodding. Crouching down, Irvine helped her scramble into the hole. Squall quickly moved forward, out of the way and towards his sister, who confidently navigated her way through the ruins. He wondered how she did it. The passage was gloomy and it took him a long time to grow used to the sparse light that shone between cracks and holes in floor. He could barely see his sister in front of him, but every now and then she would turn a corner or take another passage that he would never have known was there. He often felt Aerith's hand brush against him to reassure herself that he was still close in front of her, or heard the scurrying or an insect beside him.

The group continued in silence, Aerith only having to be reminded once to remain silent, while above them stone slabs changed into wooden floor boards, letting more light filtering down to them, and the sounds from above became far clearer. They could catch snippets of conversations, the shuffling of footsteps and the groaning of the wooden floor. Then, familiar voices reach their ears. Ellone slowed to a stop and the others followed suit. Above them they could hear the muffled sound of his father and aunt talking.

"I do not like it brother; the earth hums with warnings." Squall looked up at the creak in the wooden boards above him but the gaps where too small to see anything but light.

"But does it tell you to run?"

"No, it does not. I still feel on edge, though. He _is_ a danger to us, I am sure of it. Be careful, Laguna. I do not wish to see our people fall due to rashness."

Squall frowned up in confusion. They couldn't be talking about the boy. How could that little thing be dangerous? He'd fainted at the sight of Squall's father.

Raine's strong voice was clear to hear. "You are not suggesting that we cast him out? He is only a child."

Ifalna sighed. "Of course not, I just….he may be innocent, but I fear what misfortunes he brings."

There was silence, in which the floors creaked as someone walked across the room and he wasn't sure but he might have made out the sound of splashing water and a soft clunk. Beside him Aerith fiddled with her dress.

"Ifalna," Raine's voice cut through the silence as she hissed her sister-in-law's name. Heavier footsteps were heard, accompanied by Laguna's voice. "What is it?"

"I am not certain," the priestess answered slowly.

"You do not like it?"

"No, I may have to speak with Master Cid about it."

Again a stiff silence filled the sir until it was broken by Raine. "Will the child live?"

"Oh yes. He is ill and battered, but I will treat him and he will recover in good health."

"That is good news," and Squall could picture his mother's smile in his mind. "I will tell the children. I am sure that they are eager to hear that he will recover."

Suddenly Squall was pushed to the side and Ellone hurried past him as quickly and quietly as she could manage, passing her cousins as she tried to get them back before her mother realised they were missing and ask awkward questions. The urgency pushed itself on the others and silence didn't seem so important in comparison with the potential of being caught somewhere they probably shouldn't be, doing something they definitely shouldn't be doing. He found himself wishing that his little cousin could move faster.

Suddenly light flooded back into the passage and Ellone stood and disappeared, followed by Irvine. Aerith stood, but her little arms couldn't reach the top. Coming up behind her, Squall lifted her up far enough for Ellone and Irvine to help pull her up. Squall quickly followed and helped Ellone replace the slab as the others dashed into the kitchen.

The four burst into the Hall, out of breath and received a scowl from a nearby priestess. Hearing the noise Raine turned away from the building entrance. As she walked over to the children, they tried to even out their breathing. Squall's mother came to a stop in front of them, crossing her arms over her chest and passing a critical eye over the four children, their hair messy and their clothes dirty.

"What in Rydia's name have you children been doing?"

**End of Chapter 2**

I'm sorry, I probably should have been clearer. I haven't changed any CANNON ROMANTIC relationships. As far as I can remember anyway, if they are together in the game then I haven't seen fit to change that, so sorry guys; no Cloud/Squall in here. So Laguna/Raine, Squall/Rinoa, Cecil/Rosa, etc...Afraid I can't remember all of them and there are a lot of characters in this series. If they aren't in a cannon relationship then I may have seen fit to fiddle about and pair them up with someone.

What I HAVE changed a lot are non-romantic relationships. So as we've seen Aerith and Irvine are siblings and cousins to Squall. I've also changed some friendships ones as well. So they'll be characters interacting who never meet in FF or in KH. I hope that helps, but if you'd like more details then ask. I'd list all of the relationships, but as my relationship tree for this comes to about 100 characters (that's not including Disney ones) it's not really very practical to list and name them all here and now.


	4. Shinra's Honoured Mother

**Chapter 3**

The Midgar Valley served as a border between the Land of the Celts in the West and the Children of the Sun in the East. The mountains towered over the river in the basin below and the eastern farmland and western meadows either side, making traversing the valley difficult. Travellers and merchants who dared try were rare and the scarcity of inhabitants resulted in the creatures roaming unchecked and strong, creating a spiral that meant fewer men had the courage to tempt fate by crossing the valley. Caught between two worlds and cultures, it served as the heart of those who worshipped Ultimicia, Goddess of Choas. It was the home of the Jenova Clan.

Shinra and its people were caught between two countries in many ways. Though isolated enough to avoid most travellers, most who did arrive at the main town were traders from Wutai, a powerful port city at the mouth of the river that dominated over Jenovan history. While Wutai held most influence over their outside interaction, the Jevonan people also held a fascination with the Celts, taking what it liked from each culture, many dressing in a distinctly Celtic fashion in everyday life, while retaining the language from their own culture. Jenova was not Wutai in origin, though they shared the same source far in the east in the children of the sun.

The tribe were rumoured to have fae blood running though their veins, turning their hair silver and their skin pale while the power of the fae lent them strength and longevity. The Mother was said to be nearly a hundred and yet look no older than a woman in her twenties.

The spring of the valley and source of the River Midgar was said to be located in the garden of their leader, a woman they referred to as Mother. Taking on the name of the clan, she was the high priestess of the Goddess Ultimicia, and looked to her people as her family. Her home over-looked the town of Shinra, only the main temple standing higher up the mountain. Though she remained unmarried, The Mother had her own children in order to continue her own bloodline and produce and an heir.

The eldest son, Sephiroth, rode at the head of the army, leading his soldiers through the cries and cheers of the people. People came to line the sides of the roads to greet their loved ones and heroes in battle, and the cherry blossoms fell, creating a thin rug of pink for the horses to march through. The picture could not be more perfect. No, Sephiroth corrected himself, there was one other thing that could make it perfect. However, such thoughts were futile to dwell on now. They were victorious in battle, the greatest victory for the Janova Clan that he could remember.

The victory at Zanarkand and the blood spilt in the Goddess' name would satisfy Ultimica until the sacrifice was found. The people had never been prouder to be part of the Clan, enough to dispel any worries the warriors had over the raping of the Holy City. What did they need of worries when they had Mother and their Goddess? They had discovered that they were stronger than they had ever imaged. Who would have thought that such a small clan could have such power? Not even he – or Cecil, who had also travelled in the Land of the Celts before – though it would have been so easy; but then, they had had help. The strange shadows that they had left back in Zanarkand had been invaluable to their success, loath as he was to admit it. He had not wanted to use them and had only done so at the instance of Mother. However, the victory was still theirs, and no matter what strange creatures had been used in battle, their warriors had outperformed the infamous men of Zanarkand. It was…a worthy fight for both sides.

It had put new heart into the men as well. No longer did they bemoan the loss of their sacrifice but instead sent celebration through the men, new rumours taking root, spreading faster than seeds in the wind. There was excited chatter that perhaps they were not meant to find the child yet, maybe this was the Goddess' way of showing them their true potential. If they continued to follow the sacrifice, it would lead them to more victories and make the clan mighty – a true power to be contended with, like Wutai.

Sephiroth's mind focused back on the present. Whatever the reason may be, it didn't matter. For the moment all he cared about was that he was home and he would speak with Mother again. He could see the main house now; each step of the horse took him closer, and it did more to lighten his heart than a thousand victories of Zanarkand. He could hear the cries for him, the war hero, and though he could not deny the pride that he felt, the glory wasn't important. That was not what he had ridden out for.

He longed to kick his horse into a gallop and tear through the streets to reach his home, forgoing the temple they currently rode to. Would it really be such a bad thing? What was there left for him to do? He was not a man for public words and there was nothing left that a well chosen general could not do. If he rode ahead now none would think it strange, assuming that he had important business elsewhere. There were better people to take over the procedures now.

Convinced, he turned his head to one of the men just behind him. "General Cecil."

The other man rode forward, not quite drawing level with his superior. Superior in all but one way, that was. Having studied the art of war, Cecil was the most experienced and talented strategist; his mind and experience had been another key to their success. Sephiroth was the warrior, not the warlord in this battle.

"I will leave you now. I trust I may leave the rest to you and Yazoo."

Though he couldn't see it, the warrior knew the other man had bowed his head respectfully.

"Of course, My Lord."

Letting the ghost of a smile grace his face, the war hero kicked his horse into a gallop, flying down the road, grateful that gathered crowd had already cleared out of the way to allow the returning warriors passage to the shrine. He didn't slow until he guided his horse through the gates of the estate and into the courtyard. Reining his horse in sharply in the centre, he swung down. There was a rush as several servants rushed forward, one man taking hold of his horse while two servant girls bowed deeply. None had a chance to speak before a cry cut across the air.

"Older Brother."

Sephiroth turned to the source of the sound. From the main house came his final and youngest brother, Kadaj. The boy slid his feet into his wooden sandals, clothes reflecting his high status, and a sword that he barely knew how to hold at his side. Kadaj ran towards his oldest brother, an old nurse trailing behind him. His wooden sandals scraped along the ground as he came to a halt before his sibling, giving a hasty bow. The sight caused a small smile to appear on Sephiroth's face; he had missed home.

"Older Brother," the child repeated. "Teacher says we won."

"We did."

"So you brought back the sacrifice?"

The smile faded from Sephirtoh's face, "No, instead he lead us to a great victory, but do not fear little brother, we will bring him home soon, and then we will be close to our Goddess. Where is Mother?"

Little Kadaj looked uncertain, looking round to a tall man behind him with his long silver hair tied back into a top knot. Kadaj's personal guard.

The man bowed deeply to Sephiroth. "The Mother is in the inner shine, giving thanks and speaking with the Goddess Ultimicia while the priestesses greet the returning soldiers. She believed you would wish to bathe and eat before meeting with her, My Lord."

A young servant girl bowed, eyes downcast and her cheeks slightly flushed as she spoke. "We have prepared everything for you, My Lord."

"Good." He turned to his brother's nurse. "Tell Kadaj's teacher that he is dismissed from lessons for the rest of the day." At the news, Kadaj's face split into a grin. "There will be a festival tonight and he will need to prepare." He turned back to look down at the boy. "Now Kadaj, shall we visit the hot springs?"

(&)

There was a slight breeze in the evening, stirring the air and playing with Sephiroth's hair, bringing with it the soft scent of flora and the faint cries of the festival. It reminded him of standing in the great Hall in Zanarkand, but now the cries came from celebration, not terror. Sephiroth's bare feet slipped into his sandals to walk across the garden to the Mother Building, where the Mother of the clan always resided.

Several hours had passed since his return, and night had fallen. He was now fed, bathed and alone. He spent what remained of the afternoon with his youngest brother, listening to his childish enthusiasm of how he studied hard to make mother proud, soaking in the hot waters that soothed away any aches and pains from weeks of travelling. Then, while he ate his first good meal since leaving Shinra, Kadaj listened as he recounted the victorious battle. Half way through the tale his other brothers entered, their hair still damp from bathing. Seating themselves with their brothers, they finished the story, allowing the eldest to finish his dinner. All the while, the youngest brother listened with wide-eyed admiration and inspiration.

But now they had left to visit the festival, leaving Sephiroth, to dress probably, and visit Mother.

Walking down the steps and out of the house, he strode through the garden that separated this building from the mother building. It was a beautiful garden, peaceful and painstakingly looked after by the gardeners. Every stone was carefully given its place and every tree was cut to perfection. Every now and then, there was a loud splash as a carp broke the water's surface to swallow some bug that had foolishly landed on the water. But now little light illuminated the grounds, perhaps an occasional lamp dispersed to light the way if the lords and Mother happened to wish to stroll along the path. The lamps guided him along one path to his destination. He stepped into the entrance and slipped off his shoes before ascending the stairs onto the rouka. He passed a man-servant prostrated on the floor. The servant scrambled to his feet and Sephiroth turned his head far enough to glance at the man from the corner of his eyes. "I can find my way."

"Of course My Lord, but The Mother is currently speaking with advisor Kuja."

"It does not matter," the warrior dismissedhim, walking along the rouka as the nightingale floor sang beneath his feet. He moved round till he reached the second building behind the first, connected by the hallway between them, and stopped beside the sliding door. He wasn't there for two seconds before it was opened by a young woman, her silver hair tied back into a bun on the top of her head. He stepped into the antechamber. From the room beyond the low murmur of voices could be heard, too quiet to hear individual words but loud enough to recognise the owners.

He stood to the side, waiting as the young woman knelt in front of the door to the main chamber and slid it open. She bowed till her forehead touched the tatami mats.

"Honoured Mother, Lord Sephiroth has arrived."

Through the doorway he caught sight of Kuja. The 'man' sat in a more relaxed manner than the lord felt anyone should be in the presence of the high priestess, his tail curled around him. He never understood why mother tolerated such insolence. The only reason he could fathom was that Kuja had the strongest fae blood in all of Shinra, his mother being a full blood fae, even if it was marred by the gnome blood of his father.

Kuja shifted and bowed. "Shall I leave Honoured Mother?"

There was no reply, but the advisor must have received some kind of signal as he bowed again and stood. Taking his leave, he stepped backwards until he reached the door where he turned to take his leave. The advisor turned and, seeing Sephiroth before him, bowed deeply. "Lord Sephiroth."

He straightened and stepped round the warrior. Sephiroth didn't move his head to watch him go and ignored the smirk in the other half-gnome's eyes. If the other man wanted to feel smug over some petty matter, then let him; he had more pressing matters on his mind. He didn't even bother waiting for Kuja to leave the antechamber before he swept into the room before him. He gracefully dropped to his knees several feet from his mother and bowed.

"Honoured Mother."

Behind him, he heard the door slide shut, but he felt more than heard the servant's footfalls as she quickly made her way round the room to take her place by the Mother's side as her handmaid.

"There is no need to be so formal." Amusement coloured the smooth rich voice of his mother. "Not Sephiroth, favourite of all of my children."

The familiar rush of pride filled him when he heard these words and he looked up, relaxing as he finally gazed again upon the woman who had given him life.

Her posture was relaxed, no longer stiffly kneeling. Her legs were bent to the side as she leaned back into the gifts she had received from priests: cushions from the far east, silken sheets from Wutai and fur blankets from the land of the Celts. She was clothed in a Celtic dress, the rich and soft wool coloured midnight blue. Embroidery from Wutai decorated the hems and her crest rested over her breast. It was a unique dress brought back from a returning priest. Over the top, she wore a large over-kimono, an uchikake, designed to rest on top of several layers, a style that was fashionable a century ago. With only one layer underneath though, the kimono seemed to swamp the woman. It spread out around her, but it was not fixed into place, seeming to be used as an extra layer of warmth earlier in the evening. Now that it had fallen open, slipping off her shoulders and exposing the dress beneath, it resembled more an elaborate shawl than anything else.

She smiled at him, her facial features so similar to his that direct relation was undeniable. High cheek bones, slim-faced, with sharp green eyes that pierced him. She waved a hand at him, indicating that he should move closer, to which he gladly obliged.

To the left side of Mother, the second handmaid moved. A woman who wore the long swinging sleeved furisode kimono which was mostly hidden underneath a larger uchikake and her long silvery blonde hair was loosely tied back. It was an odd contrast to her partner, who wore a short thin kimono over Wutai trousers. The long haired handmaid placed down a tea set between the mother and son and went about making tea for the two. Her uchikake shifted and Sephiroth caught a glimpse of a sword handle hinting at the handmaidens' primary and most important role, bodyguards and warriors; the Mother's own personal sword and shield. They would obey, guard and, if need be, die for their mistress.

"Already I have heard many stories of your courage and skills in the battle," Jenova continued. "I hear that the soldiers talk day and night about you; the great Sephiroth is even greater in war. I knew you would make me proud."

She smiled across at him and he found himself returning it. "I do it for you mother. If there is anything else you wish for, then simply say."

She laughed softly. "Is there anything I wish for?" She reached out; her handmaid deftly ducked out of her way as she continued making tea, and her fingers brushed against his cheek. "Only for you, my son. It would please me so much to see you find a fine beautiful woman and marry. It would be a shame to see such a fine man's legacy die."

Sephiroth chuckled. "I am not sure that I can see myself marrying."

Mother leaned back, still smiling. "Of course she would have to be very special to be worthy of my eldest. A pretty face with no power will not do. Perhaps a sorceress…. Oooh, my son married to a sorceress; that would be a fine match."

She accepted the bowl of tea the handmaid offered her, the servant then turned to give her lord a bowl as well. He took the tea he was offered and the young woman retreated to her place beside Mother, taking her utensils with her.

"Until that day, you must rely on Yazoo to continue our line."

He took a sip of his tea, the bitter taste filling his mouth; yet another thing he had missed.

"Not Loz?" Sephiroth hesitated. He really didn't want to think about the kind of children Loz would produce.

Mother laughed. "You still shun him. Remember, he still has my love, like all of my children, blood or otherwise. Loz has his uses." She took another sip of her tea before she continued. "You approve of Yazoo's performance then?"

"He did well for himself. He fought well and his aim was amongst the best. Firion spoke about him for days after the battle. He shows great potential to command, though perhaps not lead."

"I am glad he has your approval. It seems as though I have two sons to be proud of." There was a moment of comfortable silence in which they drank.

"I hear that Kadaj does well in his studies," Sephiroth inquired.

Mother removed the bowl from her lips. "Yes. Not unusually so, not as well as you did, but his teachers are pleased." Something in the tone of her voice implied that she was not, but it changed as she moved on. "But his sword master says he has potential to be skilful with the blade."

"Perhaps I shall assist in his teaching while I am back."

"That would be very kind, I am sure he will be thrilled to hear that. I expect you to be back for some time."

Sephiroth inwardly frowned. "You will not send me out to search for the sacrifice?"

Jenova gazed into her tea, "I have spoken about the matter with Kuja. We believe it would be best to send several small groups to search for the child. Such tasks are below you and better suited to others." She looked up at him and, as if sensing the unease in him, smiled. "I do not blame you; if you have lost him than we were not meant to find him. I think…" and she looked up, looking out to where the sliding doors had been pushed far to the side, opening the room to the outside and the remarkable view of the valley. "I think the Goddess is using her sacrifice to lead us to greatness. Whatever the reason, she is not angry that we have not fought and brought back the boy."

She didn't show it, but he knew she was frowning inside.

Suddenly there was a whooshing sound, accompanied by a loud bang. The room acquired a strange red tinge for a second or two.

"Fire flowers," Mother breathed, a small smile appearing on her lips again. Another shot into the air and exploded into colourful sparks. She didn't take her eyes off the continuing show as she spoke again. "Will you leave for the festival?"

Sephiroth turned back to his mother and chuckled. "I believe I will pass on this occasion. I have had my fill of loud and rowdy company for the next few months."

She finally looked back at him. "Then perhaps you will join me in watching the fire flowers. It has been a while since I last watched them and there will be plenty of time tomorrow to speak of battles and shadows."

She set her bowl down and stood, her silver hair falling freely about her waist.

Sephiroth set his own bowl down. "It would be a pleasure."

**End of chapter 3**

There's chapter three, hope it wasn't too tedious for everyone to read. I've used quite a few Japanese words in there when there for names of things that don't really have a translation or clumsy ones to use in writing. Why did I was fire flower instead of fireworks? The kanji for fireworks are flower and fire…to be honest, it just seemed to work better in this context.

Rouka- Translates as corridor. I only use this because it gets across the idea of what I mean better than corridor. As, in traditional Japanese houses, the corridor runs round the outside of the buildings rather than between rooms. The outside walls can also be slid to the side so that they open up to become more of a veranda, so I wasn't sure if corridor was the most accurate term for it and veranda-corridor-thingy-mer-bobby seemed lame in a story.


	5. Festival

**Chapter 4**

Lord Cecil of the Jenova clan, captain to its army, looked at the girl before him in exasperation. He had hoped that during the long journey back to Shinra that she would have warmed up to him, even just a little. Instead she sat in front of him, cold as ever. He didn't really blame her. She had been taken away from her home, watched it burn and her fellow priestesses slaughtered, but he'd never even tried to harm her during their long trip back. He'd even protected her from the unwelcome advances of the other soldiers. At least it was a calm coldness that she treated him with now.

"Rosa, please," he gently asked in the Celtic language, the words flowing fluently off his tongue. "Will you not reconsider coming to the festival?"

"I will not celebrate the desecration you have committed – the burning of the holy city or the slaughter of my sisters and the hundreds of people who would do no man any harm."

That was a hard blow to him, bringing back flashes of memories from the fateful night. The faces of the women and children who'd fallen under his blade, the innocent people who'd had no chance of defending themselves against the warriors of Jenova. Trained soldiers he could handle, but the others…. The others sat heavily on his conscience.

"I do not want you to celebrate the fall of your comrades," and then an idea came to him. "You can visit the shrine and pray for those who fell to the Goddess Ultimicia."

She turned to give him a cold level look. "I am a priestess of Cosmos, I have prayed for my people. I will not pray to a Goddess of blood and chaos."

That much was obvious. She still wore the robes he had found her in, except that the colour was not so white now. It was so different from the traditional Kimono that the woman of the town often wore. Though he supposed that 'robes' wasn't really the right term for what Rosa wore, it more of a dress, a thin piece of linen held together with broaches and pins The material was cinched and held in place at the waist by a cord wrapped round several times like a strange belt. An ornament that bore the symbol of her goddess rested in the centre, attached to the cord. The garment had no selves**,** and if she continued to be this stubborn**, **then, when autumn returned, she would find out just how much colder it was in Midgar than Zanarkand.

He tried not to let his eyes linger on her dress, knowing that she'd realise what he was actually looking at. The dress gave a nice impression of the girl's figure, clinging to her curves. It was so different to the modest kimono still favoured by the women of Jenova. Not only would she start feeling the chill in the air, but she would stand out needlessly.

A shame**, **as she could blend in if she made the effort. True, her skin was darker than any Jenovan, but it was darkened by the sun and would fade in time**, **and her hair was light enough to not to stand out amongst the silvers and pale blonds of the clan's people. She did lack certain features that many Jenovans shared with the people of Wutai and set her apart from others, but at first glance, she could blend into the town's people well enough.

She turned away from him. "I have no interest in being with murderers."

And therein lay the problem. He wanted the young woman to see another side to his people. To show her why he loved them and that they weren't just a group of blood thirsty demons. However, if she refused to leave the room, much less the house, then his job was doomed before it had even started. Perhaps another approach was in order.

"It would be a pleasure to have you accompany me during the festival."

She stiffened. "So that I may seem like your concubine? I will not appear to be anything of the sort."

"That is not why I brought you here."

"Why else would you?"

Why had he? If he was asked at the moment he decided to spirit her away then he would have had no idea. They'd burst into the temple of Cosmos to find the priestesses healing those who had come in search of aid and sanctuary and then he, and his men, had killed them. He could still hear their screams, smell the blood and see their sightless eyes in his dreams. None of them were soldiers,**;** they didn't even have weapons to defend themselves.

Then at the end, there she was, a girl no older than sixteen, staring up at him with terrified eyes as he stood before her, his sword dripping with the blood of her friends. For a moment**,** she just stared up at him from her place on the floor**,** and then, shaking slightly, she brought her hands together and closed her eyes in prayer as she waited for the death blow. It never came. He couldn't bring himself to deliver the blow.

At the time he would have convinced himself that it was the way within which she faced death that had stayed his hand. Such calm bravery deserved a better fate. Now he knew it was his own guilt, or perhaps cowardice, that prevented his sword from striking. Not her reaction which was probably born from terror rather than courage. The moment's pause before attacking the young priestess seemed to confirm what he knew in his heart. These people were never going to fight back. This girl wasn't even going to try and run, for all the good it would have done her. How could he strike someone down whom he couldn't even pretend was going to strike back? Was it really worth killing all these people for one child?

"Cecil!" The friendly shout came from beyond the door. Kain. The voice of his childhood friend was a welcome break from his depressing and treacherous thoughts. "Matsuri ni ikuru kai?"

Apparently his friend was growing restless with this pointless endeavour and was eager to be off to the celebrations. Turning his head, he called back a reply in his native tongue.

"Chotto matte."

He sighed and turned back to his stubborn 'guest'. "I'll send in a maid to look after you. If you want anything, then ask her."

He stood, the folds of his Jenovan clothes shifting around him. The man's kimono and hakama were so much more comfortable than the black clothes he'd been wearing for the past few months. He was about to turn to leave when she spoke up.

"Will she let me leave this city?"

She looked at him now, holding his gaze with a look so different from the terror he had first seen in those blue eyes. She knew his answer, but that wasn't the point of the question.

"It would be unwise. The valley is filled with dangerous creatures, more so than around Zanarkand. You would not last long."

With that he turned and left the room to join his friend.

(&)

The air hummed with excitement, with happy screams and shouts of joy as the people of Shinra enjoyed the festival. The inhabitants milled around in their festival clothes. The streets were lined with stalls for the shops selling festival food; skewers of cooked meat, rice balls, sweet buns and fruit. There were stalls selling sake and tea or perhaps other drinks from Wutai. One store even sold a strange drink brought back from Zanarkand. There were stalls aimed at children, small games, which youngsters crowded round in delight. All around entertainers performed, some from a travelling troupe which the town's people allowed to stay to entertain the festival, but the main source were the drummers and dancers.

Spaces had been cleared so that large drums could stand and several, all varying in size, were always grouped together as their drummers beat, occasionally switching player between beats. They drew crowds around them that were only rivalled by the ones gathered round the soldiers**,** listening to their great, and often exaggerated, tales of victorious battles.

It all made Kadaj's head swim. He had been to festivals before, but none of them had been like this, so alive and excited. Even the Shrine procession had been more charged than normal. The portable shrine had been taken from the main one and carried throughout the city for everyone to see. Though it looked just like a miniature shrine it was as tall as Kadaj and many times wider. Unlike the main shrine, the portable one was made from gold and elaborately decorated with depictions of the goddess and her guardian beast. Eight strong men were needed in order to carry the golden shrine, each of them specially picked by the priestesses. Tonight they were all soldiers who had distinguished themselves in battle and Yazoo had been one of them. It was stunning to see and Kadaj never tired of the sight.

A higher priestess had walked before it, blessing the way and the people, while several men followed behind, beating small hand drums. More priestess and people followed behind carrying lanterns. Their drummers all but danced along to their beat while the followers sang praises to their strong and noble goddess. The sight made Kadaj feel a pride that was stronger than he'd ever felt before. He felt proud to be a member of the Jenova Clan and he felt proud to be the younger brother of the great warrior Sephiroth.

The youngest son of Jenova walked between two of his brothers as they navigated through the clumps of people, when the first fire flower exploded in the sky above. The child's head snapped up at the loud noise and he grinned as the coloured sparks appeared in the sky. The trio of brothers stood and watched as more burst into life above them.

Suddenly Kadaj's enjoyment was interrupted when he felt himself roughly pushed to the side. Stumbling he managed to catch himself against his brother Yazoo. Turning to see who would dare barge into one of the sons of the Honoured Mother, he caught a glimpse of silver hair and the long sleeves of a little girl's blue furisode kimono before it disappeared back into the crowd.

"My Lords," turning back at the sound of a voice, he saw a flustered woman bowing deeply before them. "I am very sorry. Please forgive my daughter, she is frightened by the fire flowers, she did not mean to offend you."

Frightened by fire flowers? What a strange and silly girl. Kadaj did not understand, nor did he care; she'd been very rude.

Yazoo, however, did not seem so upset. His brother merely nodded and said, "Then you'd best find her before she causes more trouble."

"Thank you, my Lord**,** for your understanding." The woman bowed deeply again, clearly relieved that the young lords were willing to let this slide, before she quickly dashed off, calling to her little girl.

"Fujin! Fujin!"

(&)

Fujin ran blindly through the streets of the festival, her small hands covering her ears in a feeble attempt to block out the loud bangs of the fire flowers. She wanted to get away from them, but wherever she ran they seemed to follow her. She bit down a sob; why wouldn't they just let her run away?

She stumbled in her wooden sandals and went flying to the ground, her hands shooting out to break her fall. She hit the stone painfully. Her eyes watered as she pushed herself to her knees, her hands stinging and grazed. Her fear was momentarily forgotten in favour of her burning palms.

"Are you alright, child?"

Fujin looked up at the elderly woman who'd asked her the question. She was about to shake her head when another loud bang echoed over their heads. Squeaking, the girl jumped up as she remembered her phobia and took off down the street.

She found herself running past the main shrine, the sounds of the fire flowers louder than ever. The area round her was clear, a space before the shrine steps that lead up to the large Tori Gates that marked the entrance of the Shrine. She ran past, not seeing where she was going. It was perhaps for this reason that she found herself on the ground for the second time that night, this time on her rear. It wasn't fair, really; not only was she scared, but now her bottom hurt as well as her hands. She wanted nothing more than to get home and hide under a blanket, snuggled next to her mother. Now she didn't even know where her mother was.

"Owwww. Look where you go."

The words were clumsily spoken and put together, the speaker obviously not used to the Jenovan language. Startled, Fujin looked up and her mouth fell open. In front of her was the most extraordinary thing she had ever seen. It was a boy. Of course it wasn't simply this that made her gawk, it was the fact that he was different to her in every possible way.

Where her eyes were red his were dark brown. Where her hair was silver, his was black. These differences alone wouldn't have made her stare so much; after all, the Wutai had these traits and she had seen several of them before. No, it was that while her skin was pale his was dark brown. She had never seen anything like it before in her life.

"What?" the boy asked.

All she could do was shake her head. Then there was another loud whooshing before the bang and blast of colours. Fujin's hands clamped themselves over her ears.

"Scared?" she heard the strange boy say.

She nodded and he chuckled. "Silly."

She looked up, glaring at the boy, but the strange child grinned down at her. He was making fun of her, but there was nothing but warmth and friendliness in his manner.

"Raijin." The shout came from beyond the boy, and he turned round. Peeking round him, she saw why the fire flowers were so loud. A few feet away, an old man stood with two young Wutai boys. A long stick, lit at the end, was in his hands and as she watched one of the Wutai boys placed a strange tube from a cart on a stand. This old man must be the fire flower master. He spoke again.

"How will you learn if you do not watch?" The old man then seemed to spot Fujin. "What do we have here?"

"Scared," Raijin replied, causing the old man to chuckle.

Raijin turned back to Fujin, who still sat on the ground. "My master," he stated, pointing behind him. "Good master." He grinned widely and offered his hand. "Come."

Her eyes widened as she realised what he meant. Go nearer those things? Not likely. She mutely shook her head. But the boy simply repeated his request, grinning all the time as his hand waited to be taken. She looked up at him, his warm eyes and welcoming grin. She was scared to go near the source of her discomfort but this boy, who was so different, seemed to draw her in. She was curious and he seemed so nice. She found her hand rising to rest in his, too intrigued by this boy to let this chance pass by. Even if it meant getting close to something scary.

(&)

"Cecil! Kain! There you are."

The two warriors stopped and turned in the busy street and towards the sound of the cry. Firion, the master of arms, strode towards them. He looked strangely bare without his armour, though Cecil imagined that others must think the same about him when he wasn't wearing his black clothing and his face uncovered. The master of arms stepped around the crowd that had gathered to watch and listen to a cluster of drums. The beating stopped just as Firion approached, and the crowd applauded the drummers.

"Captains, it is good to see you here tonight. You are still well?"

Kain chuckled. "Yes, much to the ire of Cecil's 'guest'."

The man was rewarded with a scowl from his childhood friend and Firion's small laugh.

"Did you expect otherwise?"

"No," Cecil had to concede. "But I had hoped that I could at least persuade her to come tonight."

He sounded disappointed even to himself. As the crowd cheered again, he turned to see Lord Loz stepping up to the largest drum, as tall as a man, sticks in hand. He missed the look that passed between his two friends.

The son of Jenova gave the drum a might**y** strike, and Cecil felt the vibration run through him, the beats seeming to dictate his heartbeat. He knew he couldn't expect anything else from her, but it didn't stop him hoping. There was a hand on his shoulder, and he looked round to see Kain tilt his head away from the commotion. Nodding, Cecil turned his back on the increasing speed of the drum's rhythm and let himself be led away to more quiet streets where they could talk easily. They filled the stroll with small talk. Firion spoke of going back to his village the following day and seeing his adoptive brother and sister.

"Ah, here we are." Firion broke his flow, indicating ahead and to the left. It was a garden – well, a shrine in the strictest sense, but beyond the Tori gates the majority of the land was an immaculately tended garden. The shrine itself was only a small building in the centre of a small lake, more a pond than anything else. Someone, no doubt the priestess who tended the shrine, had already been round and lit the stone lanterns along the path. A smile tugged on Cecil's lips; typical of Firion to lead them to a garden.

He wasn't a fool; he knew that his friends had led him away so they could talk without competing with the noises of the festival. If they had led him here, then they wanted to be sure that the following conversation wouldn't be overheard by eager ears. Nevertheless, he followed his friends, curious as to what they would want to speak so secretly to him about.

They passed a few minutes in silence before Kain spoke. "Something troubles you friend. It has done so throughout our journey. What is it?"

Cecil didn't speak; he hadn't realised that he'd been so obvious. He was troubled, that was true, but to voice his thoughts out loud…

"We do not betray our friends Cecil, but we are worried about you." Firion's tone was gentle.

Cecil halted by the waters of the lake, gazing across to the shrine.

"Did we do the right thing?" He'd finally said it out loud.

"What do you mean?" Kain stepped beside him.

"Our actions in Zanarkand, were they righteous? Is it right to slaughter so many for one boy whom we did not even find? So many people who could not, or would not, fight back."

"The sacrifice is important to us. With him we can be closer to our Goddess," Kain answered. "Surely that is still important to you."

"Of course it is," Cecil replied. "But…" He didn't know how to finish his sentence.

"Lord Sephiroth gave their leader a chance to hand over the boy." This time it was Firion who spoke, his tone more reassuring. "The lord sealed his people's fate by refusing to do so. They had warriors to protect themselves and not all priests were unable to fight back. The followers of Rydia fought well. I lost many good men to them." The last part was added more quietly.

"But to kill so many who could not."

Kain rested a hand on his shoulder. "Cecil, my friend, all we can do is trust in the Honoured Mother and Lord Sephiroth. Have they ever led us astray?"

"No," the captain was forced to admit.

"Have our lives fallen into chaos?"

"No." Again he could not deny the truth. He friends smiled at him encouragingly.

"Then we must believe that the Honoured Mother has her people's best interests at heart. I believe she does and will guide us to a stronger future."

Cecil nodded, encouraged and heartened by his friend's words. He really did believe that the Mother only did what she believed was best for her people, and finding this child was so important for that. He just wondered whether this was the best method.

**End of Chapter 4**

I'll be honest, I have no idea what a Japanese festival was like in pre-modern times, so I've just used my own experience of a modern Japanese festival instead and tweaked it a bit.


	6. Return to the World

**A/N: **Hey guys, back again. Btw, it was pointed out to me that it would perhaps be a good idea to include translations to the parts not in English. The reason I don't include translations is because of the reason I use Japanese, and in the case of this chapter a little bit of French, is to create a language barrier. To effectively get across the differences in language, or smoothly show the change, and in a lot of cases I feel that providing a translation slightly defeats the point of creating the barrier. However, I talked it over with my beta and if you would still like one, then simply ask if you review and I'll send the translation to you in a reply.

**Chapter 5**

The boy's eyes fluttered open, away from the cold embrace of darkness where silver demons chased him through the dreamscape. Their powers were terrifying and left him with nowhere to hide. However, this was not the world that greeted the child when he opened his eyes. It was not a cold, dark and scary existence; instead warmth filled his senses. His body no longer ached on a hard floor, but soft material surrounded him: smooth woollen blankets, soft furs and something cushioning his head. When he opened his eyes, it was not a strange eerie light, but the gentle glow of candles. Secure, that is what he felt - a sensation he hadn't felt for a long time. Then he noticed that he was not alone.

A woman sat beside his bed, working on something in her hands that he did not recognise. She had not noticed him yet, so maybe, if he stayed very still and quiet, then she would not notice he was awake…

The woman looked up from her task and met his eyes. His heart froze. A small gasp left her lips and her grey eyes widened, but it lasted only a moment. A smile spread across her face. It was wonderful, so welcoming. She spoke, and his heart sank with the realisation that he could not understand a word that she spoke. He looked at her, eyes wide, his face a picture of utter confusion. A voice came from behind him, causing him to jump and shrink against the wall. He quickly turned to see who had spoken.

On the other side of his bed sat a remarkably beautiful woman. He gazed up at her with large blue eyes. The woman's long brown hair was tied away from her face, held at the back of her head with a piece of green cloth, matching the dress she wore, and allowed to fall in waves to her waist. Her skin was smooth and clear while her facial features were delicately shaped. She fixed her emerald eyes on him and, smiling, spoke in strange words to him again.

From his other side the first woman spoke, but his eyes never left the woman before him, who nodded in response. He barely noticed the footsteps leading away from him and the creak of the door as she left the room, pulling the entrance closed behind her.

The beautiful one spoke again, and he felt increasing frustration and confusion rising inside of him. Why couldn't they just all make sense?

She leaned towards him, reaching out. He flinched back and her hand halted. She frowned down at him and he looked back, terrified. He'd upset her; what would she do now? However, before he could dwell on these thoughts, the frown smoothed out and she leaned back. She reached up to where a silver pendent hung around her neck. She held it out to him, never removing it, and more indistinguishable words were heard. He shook his head; that was all he could think to do.

The door suddenly swung open, and his head snapped round to the disturbance. The first woman stepped into the room and gave him a soft, warm smile. She moved to the side, and a man entered the room. He gazed up at the strange new person, his worry, fright and confusion forgotten as his eyes fixed on the man's mouth. He never knew that anyone could smile so widely….

(&)

Raine stepped aside to allow her husband to enter the room. As he moved past her, she reached for the door again, and looked down at her son and daughter still standing in the hallway. She ignored their imploring looks.

"Stay there." Her voice was firm, but not unkind.

"But-" Ellone was interrupted by her mother.

"Stay," she repeated. Her two children looked up at her, disappointed, robbed of their chance to see this bizarre boy. She felt her heart melt a little. "He is shy and scared, but if he improves then perhaps you may see him later this week."

Her lips twitched up as their faces lit up. She closed the door, shutting them out of the scene unfolding inside.

"I believe," she heard her husband begin, bringing her attention back to the matter at hand, "he does not understand a word we say."

The lady turned and came to stand beside her husband, her eyes falling on the boy. Much of the tension in his body seemed to have faded as he looked up at the leader of Radiant Garden. His bright blue eyes were wide in amazement while his mouth hung slightly open.

"I believe that, for once, you are right." Ifalna's voice floated to them from where she sat beside the boy's bed. "I have never seen such blank looks. We will not get much sense out of him, not that he has spoken yet."

Laguna took a step towards the boy and Raine took a deep breath.

"Laguna, be careful; he is easily startled." Her husband was a good man, gentle with children, but he was also prone to rash and foolish actions, witha lively personality. If her husband was not careful, then he would cause the boy to fall back into panic.

She need not have worried. The lord approached the child, his smile diminishing to a softer one, but when he drew close to the bed, the boy shrank away. As soon as the boy became obviously uncomfortable, the man stopped, now by the foot of the bed. He crouched down, so that he did not tower over the boy.

"Hello there." Laguna's gentle greeting went unanswered, but the boy did not seem more agitated. Relieved and assured that the boy was not going to fly into a fit of terror, Raine stepped beside her husband. Blue eyes flicked up to her before falling back on Laguna.

"We will not harm you little one, there is nothing to fear from us," Laguna spoke, for all the good it would do the child. Though she suspected the point was not the contents of what he said, but rather the tone. "What is your name?"

The question hung unanswered in the air and Raine began to wonder why her husband even tried. The boy flicked his eyes between the three adults, as if he was searching for an answer.

Laguna looked up into his wife's face. "Is he from the south?"

"Gaelic?" Raine looked back at the blond child. He didn't seem as if he was from her homeland. No, she had never seen any child with hair so pale. Still it was worth a try.

"Etes-vous du sud?"The words of her native tongue were smooth and comforting to her sense. She missed hearing the language, but as familiar as it seemed to her, it seemed just as foreign to the boy. He did not understand, if anything he seemed more confused. He just shook his head.

She was not going to get an answer; that much she was sure of. However, just as she turned back to her husband, the boy did something that surprised her; he spoke. It was a small trembling voice that captured the boy's unease.

"Sumimasen ga, wakarimasen. Hontou ni gomen nasai"

He looked up at her as he spoke, as if desperately hoping she would understand.

"Definitely not Gaelic then," was Laguna's only input.

Ifalna looked to them. "You do not recognise the language?"

The husband and wife both shook their heads. He must be from some strange, far away land if Laguna did not recognise the speech; her husband had travelled far in his youth. The priestess looked back at the boy thoughtfully.

"I believe it is time that I made that visit to Cid."

Well, this was all very good and well, but it really was not doing the boy any good for the moment. All they knew was that they were not going to able to understand each other for some time. The child was clearly scared and confused and she had no doubt that he was also hungry and thirsty. Standing around and talking between themselves was not going to sort that problem out.

She moved around Laguna, slowly taking a few steps to her seat earlier. She moved her embroidery, aware of the child's eyes on her and the way his body stiffened. She reached to the small flat-top chest between the bed, the wall and her chair. Over the past week, the surface had been occupied by Ifalna's medicines, water and other items that the high priestess might need in the treatment of her patient. Now the only objects that rested in the space were an oil lamp, to help light the room, and two large bowls. One of the bowls was already empty, Ifalna having drained her soup earlier that evening. However, Raine's bowl was still half full. The contents would be cold by now, but it was still more than edible.

She took the bowl and spoke.

"Are you hungry?" She followed the question by making a drinking gesture.

At last the boy seemed to understand that as his stomach rumbled.

Laguna chuckled. "I believe _that_ has answered your question."

The boy's cheeks turned red and she couldn't help the smile that crept across her face. She held out the bowl to him.

"Here."

Blue eyes became rooted to the bowl. She may not understand his words, but she understood that look. He was torn, unsure as to whether he should take the bowl or not. Surely he did not think it was poisoned, it was too paranoid a thought to belong to a boy that age. No, he didn't really seem scared of the cold soup. She lifted the bowl to her lips and took a small mouthful of the cold liquid. She held the bowl back out to the boy.

"See; it is good."

The boy did not seem anymore assured, but he did lick his lips hungrily. It seemed as if Raine would have to be more forceful. After all, she was _not _about to let boy starve to death. She placed the bowl to his lips, tipping it so the boy had to drink to avoid spilling it everywhere. He drank greedily, his small hands rising to steady the bowl. It didn't take him long to finish the soup.

Placing the clay bowl back down on the trunk she heard her husband's cheery voice.

"Feeling better?"

She turned to see him grinning at the young child like a madman, holding his thumb up to help illustrate his point. For the first time the child returned it with a shy smile of his own.

Laguna chuckled. "I knew there was a smile hiding inside you somewhere." He held his hand to his chest, indicating to himself. "My name is Laguna." He tapped his chest again to try to emphasis his point. "Laguna," he repeated his name slowly.

The boy looked uncertain before pointing to the man. "Raguna"

Raine suppressed a wide smile while her sister-in-law stifled a giggle.

"No." Laguna waved his hands. "_La_-gu-na."

The boy tried again. "_Ra_-gu-na."

"No; _La. __**La**_-gu-na"

"_**Ra**_-gu-na?"

Raine tried very hard not to laugh at her husband's dismayed expression at the child's inability to pronounce his name correctly. The man looked as if he was going to try again, but instead he released a heavy sigh.

"Yes, Raguna." He gave the boy a soft smile.

Deciding to rescue her husband, Raine brought the attention back to herself. She rested her fingers against her breast as she clearly spoke.

"My name is Raine. Raine."

He boy hesitated a moment before speaking. "Re-i-n." He repeated the name carefully, his accent clear in the word, but still true to the name. She even liked the strange way he spoke it, almost softer, not quite a rolling of the tongue. She smiled at him.

"Yes, well done."

The boy seemed happier with his success and Laguna muttered something under his breath about unfair favouritism. Raine ignored him and looked up at Ifalna.

"My turn?" Raine nodded and the priestess turned to the boy, resting her hand above her heart. "My name is Ifalna. If-al-na."

He did not hesitate this time, encourage, no doubt, by his recent success with Raine.

"I-fa-ru-na."

"It seems as if he has trouble saying 'L'," Raine voiced her observation, receiving a nod from others in return.

"What is your name?" The priestess asked the boy, pointing to him as she did so. Her only response was a shake of his head.

The three adults shared a confused look. Maybe he had not understood. This time Laguna tried.

"Laguna." He indicated himself. "Raine. Ifalna." He pointed to each woman in turn and then at the boy "and your name is?"

Again he shook his head and looked down at the blankets that covered him. He spoke, his voice so quiet that they barely heard him. "Watashiwa namaega arimasen. Hontou ni gomen nasai."

Somehow Raine did not think that he'd just given them his name. Laguna fell into the trap though. He pointed at the boy.

"Watashi-"

A small giggle escaped the boy and he quickly covered his mouth, shaking his head.

"I do not think that is his name." Raine explained to the man.

"Perhaps he has no name." Raine looked up at her husband's suggestion. The thought had never occurred to her, why would it? Surely he must have a name. He could speak, which meant someone must have taught him, and whoever that person was must have called him something.

Ifalna gave her brother a patient look. "How can he have no name?"

Laguna shrugged. "He may be an orphan."

"Orphans have names as well."

"Then why does he not tell us?"

His sister had no answer to give him.

"It does not matter," Raine interjected. "If he will not tell us his name, then he will not tell us his name. It matters little." She turned back to the small child and smiled. "I think we have other concerns to occupy us."

(&)

"…and so I must leave you for a while."

Rosa stared coolly at Lord Cecil as he sat opposite her. The surprise of having a Jenovan speak to her in her own tongue had long faded into cold indifference. Not even the smooth fluency with which he spoke, no hint of an accent, caught her attention now. It made little difference whether or not she understood her captor because she did not care what he said.

"I do not know when I will return, but I will ask my servants to look after you. I will leave a maid to see to you personally. Her name is Akiko, I believe that is around your age, and she speaks a little Celtic. However, there are very few others in Shinra who can speak any of your language, so I advise you always stay close to her." He paused for a moment and looked at her with such a sincere expression that she nearly softened her gaze. "I will try to return as soon as possible."

She maintained her steady gaze. She could not deny the slight shift in her attitude over the last few days as she began to accept her fate. She now treated this man, and her surroundings, with cold indifference instead of hot anger. She had not given in though. She would not become a slave in mind or body, she had merely come to realise that she truly was trapped. There was no escape for her and the knowledge did not lead to her giving in, but instead fuelled the stubborn will not to concede.

She was not a fool though. She knew that her subjugator's absence would make life more difficult for her. She was about to lose the only enforcer of her protection. Though the servants would never dare treat her with anything but strained respect, at least to her face, and carry out their duty to their lord, she was not so certain of others. At least the servants interest in her had faded somewhat. She was not sure if their interest in her had stemmed from her being a prisoner, a priestess or a foreigner. It had bothered her at first, the whispers and stares. She was used to being respected openly, not at gawked at openly.

When she failed to respond to the Lord spoke again.

"Is there anything you need, or would like, before I leave?"

"No."

They lapsed into silence again, and the Lord sighed.

"Rosa, I hope that you will look around the town while I am away, or allow the servants to entertain you. Perhaps if you found a way to pass your time you would be happy."

"I doubt that; I will never be happy here." She looked away from him, fixing her gaze on the strange paper screens instead.

"I hope that will not be true." She looked back at the silver lord and he smiled gently at her. "I hope you will grow used to life here and come to love these people as I do."

She did not answer him and he stood.

"Stay well Rosa. May your life be free of chaos," were his final words before he left her presence.

**End of Chapter 5**

**A/N:**

scriobhneoir45: Thank you for the review. As to whether there will be Yoai or not; well, I'm afraid I don't write porn (not sure if that was what you were looking for in particular). Shonen-ai? Mmmm, maybe. I haven't got any plans for any at the moment, but I'm not ruling it out. However, if you're looking for some Cloud/Leon-Squall pairing then this isn't the fic for you.


	7. Her Voice

**Chapter 6**

He liked her voice. There were many other things he liked about her as well, but he especially loved her voice- so rich and smooth, like silk gliding over skin. The other woman, Ifalna, was more beautiful, as if she was some heavenly creature from the legends. However, like those heavenly creatures, there was something distant about her.

Not like Raine, whom he thought was very pretty as well. There was something warm about her, and it made him feel safe. When he woke at night, shaken from nightmares, she would hold him close and rock him back to sleep. She smelled of flowers and was gentle, yet there was firmness about her. Her dark hair was held back from her face with a simple gold circlet that seemed there for practicality, rather than fashion. She was everything he thought a mother should be.

However,what he loved about her, above everything else, was her voice. He loved to listen to her speak, even if he couldn't understand a word she said. The voice was so rich and, not unpleasantly, deep, so that whatever she said sounded nice and comforting. He liked it so very much, it made him feel…safe.

She spoke quite a lot, often just while she worked with her needle, but sometimes she would try to teach him words. In the last couple of days he'd learnt several new words to use when referring to himself, but he didn't see how they were used. He tried, but he couldn't understand which one was polite enough for him. Raine used all of them when speaking to him, which simply confused him even more.

Raine spoke again and he realised that she was trying to explain something, but, as always, the meaning behind the words were lost on him. She finished and smiled at him. He nodded, out of habit more than anything. By the way she shook her head he knew that she knew he didn't understand a word she had said. Looking over the top of his head she spoke to the woman behind him. Ifalna's voice replied, a hint of humour in there.

There was a knock at the door and he jumped in surprise at the unexpected noise. Raine put a soothing hand on his shoulder and called out.

"Enter."

The door swung open and he stiffened, eyeing the passage cautiously. His pursuers hadn't appeared yet, but they never did immediately. However, his fears eased as the man they called Laguna stepped in instead. The man grinned at him and he found himself smiling shyly back. He couldn't help it; whenever he saw the other man grin he had to smile as well.

"Hello little one, how do you feel today?"

He recognised the phrase; the man used it every time he arrived. He may not understand what it all meant, but he knew the phrase and knew it was a greeting.

The boy didn't answer, what would he say, but a response wasn't expected. Laguna turned to his wife and spoke. She nodded, and the man turned back to call out to the door. The oak entrance swung partly open and two children slipped inside the room. A boy and girl, both clearly older than him by at least a few years. He watched as they made their way over to Raine, Laguna following behind them after he had closed the door. The girl, with dark brown hair and darker brown eyes than he'd seen anyone have before, came to stand by Raine's shoulder. As the boy, his hair lighter than the girl's and his eyes stormy blue, drew close to the woman she pulled him into his arms. The boy frowned up at the woman, but never objected. Raine slipped an arm around the girl and the blond child suddenly realised who they were: they were her son and daughter. The child felt the stirrings of what could have been called jealously, or perhaps simply hurt from what felt like a rejection.

The mother untangled one of her arms from her son's waist to rest it on her boy's shoulder, speaking as she did so. She then repeated the action for her daughter. The blond boy watched them, unsure if he understood what she was saying.

The brunet turned round to his mother and stated something, but Raine only responded by gently pushing him forward. She whispered something in her son's ear and he nodded. To the blond's great relief, he understood what the other boy said.

"Hello, I am Squall."

The brunet held his hand over his heart, just like the adults had when introduced themselves. It was a strange gesture to him. Raine and Laguna watched him expectantly. He looked between them all until he realised what they waited for. Raising his hand, he pointed at the older boy.

"Sukoru." The word rolled clumsily off his tongue, a feeble imitation of the strange new name. It was terribly done and the other boy seemed to confirm this with his distasteful expression.

"Squall," he repeated firmly.

The blond tried again, his heavy accent hampering his attempt again. Squall tried again, this time sounding it out. He tried to imitate the name. The son frowned deeper and opened his mouth to try again, but no sound came out. Instead his expression changed, comprehension dawning, and he closed his mouth. The boy nodded and the blond felt some of his agitation leave him.

The girl stepped forward. "Hello, I am Ellone."

Oh dear, another very strange name. Why did these people have so many of them? His stomach twisted nervously as he stuttered out her name.

"E-E-rou-n."

However, unlike the previous family members, she simply smiled at him and nodded. She spoke, but whatever it was sounded encouraging. She didn't seem to draw attention to his mistakes or try to correct him.

Laguna was talking again and he let the words wash over him, not even trying to catch them as he gave Ellone his very own small smile.

(&)

It was all very unfair, Aerith reflected gloomily. She was the one who had found the boy and her cousinswere the first to be introduced to him. In the meantime she had to sit out in the corridor with her brother and wait to be called in next. It was only because Uncle Laguna was chief. Yes, it was all very unfair indeed.

However, it was hard to stay angry with soothing voices in one's head. Her father's voice- telling her that it didn't matter; she would meet him very soon and then she could talk to him as much as she wished.

It was still unfair though.

Did it really matter? It was a small injustice in a world of large ones.

She supposed it didn't, but…the little girl tried to think of an argument and failed.

The door suddenly opened and the brother and sister quickly stood, looking hopefully up into the face of their uncle. Laguna grinned down at them.

"Can we see him?" Aerith asked.

Laguna opened the door wider. "What do you think Ifalna?" he called into the room. "Shall we let them in?"

"Leave them alone and let them in," their mother's voice chided from within the room.

The children didn't wait for permission from their uncle before dashing in. Aerith barely noted her cousins and aunt opposite her mother; her eyes were drawn instead to the little boy in the bed. She openly stared at him as she made her way to her mother, slowing her dash to a walk. He looked so small amongst the blankets and furs that surrounded him. His large blue eyes didn't do much to help him in that regard. It gave him a look of being constantly startled, like a deer she had once seen. However, he wasn't as scared as he had been, a 'voice' whispered inside her head. A hug was what he needed, she decided as she stepped before her mother; that always made her feel happy.

The comforting embrace from behind seemed to confirm what she knew. She leaned back into the arms as she looked up at the boy's hair. It was amazing, so unlike Quistis', which had shades of red, while Zell's was golden. It was pale, like his skin, much paler than any of the ladies in the town. It was pretty…now that he wasn't covered in mud and she could see him clearly.

Her mother's voice interrupted her examination.

"Go on, introduce yourself."

"Hello." Shyness started to creep up on her. "I am Aerith."

The boy looked a little awkward and her mother spoke. "Repeat you**r** name, but this time show that you are speaking about yourself."

Aerith tapped her chest. "Aerith."

The boy hesitated before tentatively saying. "Earisu."

"Aeri-TH!" Irvine exclaimed from beside his mother. There was a hint of irritation on behalf of his sister.

The little girl's cheeks turned pink and a timid smile spread across her face. She leaned back further into her mother and avoided the boy's gaze. It was unusual for the normally bold child.

"He can call me Aeris if he wants to."

(&)

Lady Maria strolled along the Rouka that ran along the outside of her family's home. The outer walls had been rolled back to allow the spring sun to warm the walkway. A stray cherry blossom petal landed in her way, one of the last to fall from the trees, leaving the branches bare again. Quick to come and quick to go, just like her brother. He had only arrived a scarce few days ago and now he was being sent away again.

She wasn't angry; after all, Firion only did as he was ordered and it was a noble cause. Anger would be a pointless emotion, and selfish; it was not her place to disrupt the Honoured Mother's decision. She could not deny the disappointment that resided in her heart though. She had grown used to being apart from her brother; after his talent in arms had caught the attention of those with influence and power he had been moved to Shinra, so she didn't have much of a choice. However, Shinra was a day's ride fromthe village they lorded over, an easy distance to visit, unlike the Land of the Celts.

Still, there was nothing she could do about the matter. She was proud of her brother's achievements and was prepared to put up with the separation. So, she spent as much time as she could with her brother, often just sitting and watching him tend to his beloved plants. She was sure that was where she would find him now.

Her instincts were proven right when she rounded the corner to see Firion sitting upon the wooden walkway, carefully pruning a small tree. It was such a serene image that it was hard to imagine that the same hands that tended so loving to the plants could also master any weapon they touched. They had mastered shaping life and death.

The warrior looked up at her and smiled. "Sister."

"Brother." She knelt on the other side of the plant, watching him as he examined the tiny tree. A hand maid rushed forward to offer her a paper parasol, but she shook her head. The sun was not strong and she liked the warmth on her skin. She folded her hands in her lap, one pale blue furisode sleeve dropping over the edge of the side of the rouka.

They sat for a moment in silence, both each enjoying the other's company. He finished with his tree and set it to one side, pulling a flowering plant towards him instead.

"Lord Cecil will arrive by noon today." Her words did not seem to surprise Firion, who merely nodded.

"Then I will have to prepare soon. I wish I could have remained in Midgar for longer."

"Will you be gone for long?"

"Perhaps six months."

Six months- her hands tightened in her lap. Though her face remained unchanged, she felt her heart fall in disappointment. He'd been absent for months, appeared for less than a week and now he was away again for months. She was being silly, she mentally chided herself, it could be far worse.

As if sensing her emotions, he looked up at her and smiled.

"I shall write when I can, but it may be difficult to find couriers willing to cross such a vast and dangerous distance."

"Then do not trouble yourself," she assured him, reflecting her duty rather than her feelings. She tried to distract herself by turning her attention to more cheerful matters. "How does Lord Cecil's younger priestess fare?"

A smile pulled at Firion's lips. "I suspect no better than the last time I spoke to him. I am sure that he is even less eager to leave his home than I am."

"Perhaps I will try to visit her. I am curious."

"She does not speak any of our tongue," her brother warned.

"I know a little Celtic and I would be happy to practice it with her. I think she would be happy for the company."

Firion let off a small laugh. "I doubt that."

The warrior clipped off a small collection of light yellow flowers and looked up at the sun. A small earthen pot that lay to his side caught her attention. So different to the others because all that was visible inside was soil, but she felt she knew what was buried underneath.

"You planted the seeds you brought back."

"Yes, I have no idea what they will grow into, or how to tend to them, so I felt it was best to refrain from planting them in the garden. I doubt a Celtic plant will survive our rainy season."

It was funny how differently men saw treasure. Some brought back gold, Lord Cecil returned with a girl and Firion…seeds. So amusing and yet so very much like her brother.

"I will tend to them in your absence."

He turned back to her. "Thank you, I know they will flourish under your care." The master of arms stood, taking hold of the small bunch of blossoms. "It will be noon in less than an hour. I must ensure that I am ready to depart as soon as Lord Cecil arrives."

"Are you sure that you will not stay the night?"

"No, it is best if we leave as soon as possible."

She looked down at her hands. "I see."

There was the creak of wood and Firion's shadow fell over her. She looked up at his smiling face and his dexterous fingers weaved the yellow blossoms into the comb that held her hair in place.

"I shall return soon enough. The months will pass and I will be back before you notice I have left. This time there is little danger in my mission." He stood again. "I may return before the summer has finished, if all goes well."

He stepped away, walking along the Rouka in the direction of his rooms.

She turned her head. "May your life be free of chaos."

He paused briefly to reply, "So may yours," before disappearing around the corner, leaving the lady with the peace of the garden to soothe her feelings. He was right; this time he would be safe. After all, what was a few months to a pureblood Jenovan?Merely a small drop of water in a larger pool. With no war she felt as ease with his departure. She just wished for another week or two with her brother.

(&)

A soft, night breeze made its way round Balamb, stirring the cloak of High priestess Ifalna. She pulled the heavy woollen material tighter round herself. The spring was cooler here than in Zanarkand and, despite the days and nights becoming warmer, it was still too cold for her liking. It wouldn't be too long, though, until she would no longer require the protection of her cloak.

She moved through the town, ignoring the loud noises from the tavern no more than a few buildings away. Every now and then the entrance to the inn would open, increasing the volume of the merry sounds as drunkards stumbled out. The home she walked to was on the opposite side of the town to her temple, past her brother's home where she cared for their new guest.

Another breeze played with her shroud, threatening to snuff out the light of her lantern. It was only a little further, just round the next corner and…

A large longhouse came into view, causing the priestess to pick up her pace. She made her way to the door of the second richest man in Radiant Garden, Cid Kramer. She knocked on the heavy wood and didn't have to wait long before the door opened. A servant girl stood on the other side, peering through the gap. Her eyes widened when she realised who stood before her and she flung the door fully open to let the other woman inside.

"High Priestess Ifalna."

The religious leader stepped into the warmth of the building.

"I wish to speak with Master Kramer."

The girl nodded. "Please follow me, High Priestess."

The servant led the way through the house, passing a simple tapestry that hung on the wall, no doubt made in one of the southern lands. They stepped in front of a door and the young girl knocked. Not a moment later a muffled cry was heard from within and the maid slipped inside, keeping the door mostly shut behind her.

She curtsied. "Master Kramer, High Priestess Ifalna wishes to see you."

There was a heavy creak of wood and the priestess got the impression that Cid had just turned round in his seat.

"She is here?"

"Yes, master."

"Let her in."

The maid swung the door open for her, allowing the elder woman to into the room. It wasn't just any room though; to Ifalna it was a treasure trove. Shelves were stacked with books while chests were filled with scrolls. It was the books that amazed her, and there were almost fifty of them. They were brought by the man's wife as she travelled to the far corners of the Celtic realm, and occasionally further. It was easy to see just from this room the Kramer's vast wealth; even her own temple only had one book.

"High Priestess Ifalna." Cid stood respectfully. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I wish to examine some of your texts."

"Of course, perhaps I could help you. What exactly do wish to read?"

"I am not entirely certain," Ifalna admitted, releasing how odd she sounded.

However, Cid showed no sign that he found this at all odd.

He chuckled. "Perhaps a more appropriate question is what are you trying to find?"

"The meaning of a symbol or at least where it comes from." Cid turned back to his desk, picking up a sand tray. He shook it, erasing whatever was there before, and handed it to her. Smiling she took the tablet, only having to think for a matter of seconds before tracing the image. After she finished the scholar took it back, careful not to disturb the sand. He frowned down at it.

Ifalna felt disappointment rising at his expression. "You do not recognise it."

Cid didn't look up. "I do, but I do not know how…"

Encouraged by the positive, if only vaguely so, response she added, "I found nothing in the temple scrolls, but they hold little beyond our own cult and nothing beyond the lands of the Celts. Perhaps we should look east?"

Cid nodded. "Yes, it looks eastern." He glanced up at her. "I assume this has much to do with our noble leader's latest guest?"

"What makes you think that?" Ifalna asked stiffly.

Cid smiled. "Logic. Do not worry; I can hold my tongue, everything we discuss tonight will stay between us."

Ifalna nodded, she trusted Cid; he was an honest man.

"Thank you. The mark was found on his body."

He frowned slightly. "How curious. Yes, I think it appears eastern, I would say from Wutai. It is the most open to us, and so the most likely. They trade with any who can afford their goods, including Zanarkand, or they did," he added more quietly.

"He does not resemble any Wutai man I have ever seen." While she was still a novice priestess she often travelled down to the docks to buy and look at the trader's goods. From Wutai they would buy precious stones and silks. But those men had golden skin and dark eyes and hair.

Cid looked almost excited. "How does he appear then?"

"Pale skin, blue eyes, and blond hair. But far lighter than a Zankardian- more of a silvery blond."

"That does not sound like a Wutai man."

"Are there other areas in the East?"

"Oh yes," Cid rushed, "Many. To the far east are the clans of the 'children of the sun', as they refer to themselves. In the Midgar…" He trailed off, frowning down at the symbol. "There are the Jenovan clans. They hole themselves up in the Midgar Valley and rarely come out, they like keep to themselves, but the creatures that roam the land are supposed fearsome."

"So it is unlikely that he is from such a place."

"I have no idea. Perhaps he is and his parents were killed by such creatures, leaving him to wander alone. They are supposed to have pale hair, a mark of their fae ancestors." A small smile pulled at his lips. "No wonder they hide away, I would if I had fae blood running through my veins." He became serious. "I have very little written on them though, only some scrolls on their Goddess."

"Their Goddess?"

"Yes, Ultimecia."

"Ultimecia?" she repeated, a little surprised. "The Goddess of Chaos?"

"You know of her?"

"A little, they had a very small shrine in Zanarkand, but they were very private and most were Celts. So, I am afraid I cannot testify as to whether there are any similarities between these Jenovans and the boy we found." She smiled, remembering how Gast used to say they were there to stake their own claim on the land rather than a genuine interest in having a shrine there.

Cid laid down the tray of sand. "It is a starting point. I have a scroll on the goddess somewhere here, but I doubt it will have anything of use inside. It may be useful in other ways though." He made his way over to a trunk and started shifting through it. "A clue, or reference to the mark or mention to people who use it. Of course," he paused his searching in order to look at her, "he may just be an exotic slave that managed to escape in the sacking and his mark is a slave brand."

Ifalna shook her head. "I would like to think so, it would be simpler, but I feel there is something more to this matter. The earth hums warnings about this boy. He is no simple slave."

"Who am I to doubt the hummings of the earth and the intuition of a woman, a high priestess at that. " He turned back to his hunt, leaving the woman to wonder if he was mocking her not. "But I advise you take a seat, I suspect that I will be searching for many hours."

**End of Chapter 6**


	8. Tavern Talk

**Chapter 7**

The inn of Radiant Garden was much like any other building in the town. It was a wooden longhouse that was larger than most other homes, but no larger than the stone structures. The front half was a tavern, where local men drank ale and exchanged stories. Round the back were spare rooms for travellers, as well as for Master Trepe and his daughter.

Master Trepe was a wealthy merchant who had travelled throughout many lands and over the great sea. It was said that he had returned seven years ago with a baby girl in his arms and had never travelled again. He instead settled into the life of a tavern owner. Rumours had spread wildly about the origin of his daughter. Some said that she was the offspring of a whore, while other claimed it wasn't even his own flesh and blood. Whatever the story was, Master Trepe never said and Quistis remained his sole heir. She would inherit the inn when her father passed into the next life.

The inn was as lively on this night as it was every night. From a group of drunkards singing rowdily on one side, to a group of older men leaning forward in deep conversation in another, to a lone traveller who sat eating near the back in a dark corner. However, underneath a table beside the door to the private chambers sat a group of very different guests. Quistis ducked back under the table, her hands filled with a large tankard, the golden liquid splashing over her hands as she hurried for cover. She placed it in the centre of the circle of children, who grinned happily.

"I was nearly caught," the little blonde announced, letting the group know just how much trouble she'd nearly gotten into to get their prize.

"Then you should have the first drink as a reward," Ellone announced from opposite her. She unclipped the brooch that held her dark red cloak in place, the heat from fire in the centre of the room getting to her. "And Wendy will make sure to tell an extra special story tonight."

Quistis grinned, taking a deep sip from the cup, pleased with the honour of going first. She then passed the tankard to Wendy, entitled to go second in her role as story teller. It was a fair trade; Quistis stole some cider for them and Wendy told them all a story, and her stories were always worth the risk of getting caught drinking what they shouldn't be. Wendy passed the cider to Ellone, the eldest there.

It was normally cider they stole, but occasionally Master Trepe's stock would run dry and they would have to wait for barrels to be traded from a town up stream. During these times they would settle for Mead, though not as delicious as cider, the children still enjoyed the sweet taste. They had discovered that if they shared a couple of tankards of the honey brew, that their heads quickly became light. Still, it was better than ale. When they had once sent Zell to steal some mead, he had returned with ale and the children found an instant dislike for the bitter, hoppy drink.

"An extra special story…" Wendy mused. Her light brown hair was as short as Ellone's, cut a month ago in an attempt to imitate her friend. Apparently her parents had been furious, but they dared not point a finger at their chief's daughter.

Ellone passed him the drink and Squall finally got to take a sip before passing it onto Irvine.

"Gaiwan of the West," Wendy finally announced before looking round the circle. "Will Zell join us?"

The group of friends shook their heads. Zell was the only one missing in their group tonight, but it didn't seem to bother the young storyteller who, without so much as a shrug, ploughed into her story.

"Gaiwan was the eldest son of a poor farmer. He lived on the western coast, by the great Atlantic sea…"

(&)

Elsewhere in the tavern other stories were being told. These stories were exchanged between grown men about the recent events in their lands. However, they were not necessarily any truer in content than little Wendy's epic tale of love and revenge. A farmer sat with his two good friends gossiping- though they would never admit it, gossiping was done between housewives who had too much time on their hands- while his son sat by his side, listening intently.

"I do not care what men say, no army could destroy the Holy City in one night. There are demons involved, you mark my words." The speaker was the eldest man at the table, an old leather worker.

The farmer laughed. "Mark your words, Gaeleg? You claim demons are the cause of all your misfortunes."

"Then tell me Ennes, what army could cause Zanarkand to fall in one night with no warning? Those Zankardan guards are not to be taken lightly. Twice the size of normal men, they are."

The third man laughed. "You listen to too many fanciful stories. They are fearsome and strong- the Lord Jechthad muscles larger than any man I've ever seen- but twice the size of normal men? Perhaps through a child's eyes."

"And I suppose you would know, Thomas?"

Thomas took a large gulp from his ale. "I would know better than you, old man. I, at least, have seen them. My caravan regularly, did regularly, visit the city to trade."

The men leaned towards him eagerly, the son's eyes sparkling with curiosity, but it was his father who spoke.

"When were you last there?"

"Two weeks past."

"Was there trouble brewing?"

Thomas laughed. "Not at all, no indication of its coming doom. Lord Jecth's wife had even recently given birth, supposedly to a boy."

"Ha!" Gaeleg sounded victorious. "There you are. The heir ruined someone's chance of inheritance, so they took it by force."

Thomas scoffed. "So they could lord over a crumbling city of corpses?"

The old man fixed him with an intense stare. "Men do strange things when they feel cheated."

"Enough for sacrilege?" Ennes sounded doubtful. "And how would the man raise an army to destroy the city without anyone noticing?"

The paranoid man slammed his tankard on the table, raising his voice. "I've told you: demons."

Several people looked round and his friends hushed him. Thomas spoke in a low voice no doubt to clam the man. "But even so, it makes no sense. Lord Jecth is merely the lord of the guard, not the city. He may be the leader of the council, but he does not have free reign."

Ennes snorted. "Strange way to lead."

The merchant shrugged. "It suits a city and land to which many lay claim."

For the first time, Ennes' son, Cullen, spoke up.

"What about the boy?"

His father's eyes snapped to him. "What boy?"

"The one found in the ditch, on the town outskirts."

Ennes seemed to lose interest in the matter. "What of him?"

"I hear he is being seen to away from the other patients, inside the chief's own home."

"Sounds like our chief."

"Did he take in the other children?"

"No," Ennes was forced to admit, "but they died."

Thomas stepped in to explain the matter more clearly.

"The Leonharts are kind, good people with a soft spot for children. They will not let one die if they can help it. We could not ask for a better chief."

The men cheered and smashed their tankards together in a toast before drinking deeply. Once Cullen had lowered his drink, he tried again.

"But what will they do with the boy once he has recovered?"

However, Gaeleg seemed to have grown tired of the subject. "No doubt give him to the temple to become a novice. What does one small boy matter when we have our borders to worry about? We have not seen the last of those demons that sacked the Holy City."

For once Thomas nodded in agreement, choosing not to comment on the 'demon' part.

"We are entering dark times. Have you heard of the trouble stirring in Dalmasca?"

"Another army?" Ennes guessed.

"Not yet. The king is dying and the crown prince is young, not much older than our own princess. They fear an over-zealous family will see their chance take control from the royals."

Gaeleg waved a dismissive hand. "What does it matter to us? Let Dalmasca deal their own problems, we have plenty of our own."

(&)

The worries of the great kingdom were not so far away for some.

Half a day's ride from the capital was a crossroad at which two mounted chocobos stood. On one, a dark haired boy sat before his minder. The child crossed his arms over his chest, looking none too happy about the situation.

"I want to stay," the child repeated stubbornly.

On top of the other chocobo, the father sighed. "We have been over this a hundred times; I need you to stay out of harm's way." His expression softened a little. "It will only be for a week, perhaps two, then I will come for you. The city needs to calm down and Prince Reks to be on the throne before you can return."

"I can help you."

The father smiled down at the boy. "Not this time. People will try to use you against me and then I will have to work against our king." Seeing that his son was still not convinced, he tried another tack. "I would have thought that you would be glad to see your friend again."

"I am," and then the child's eye lit up, successfully distracted. "He won't expect me to be coming. I will have to think of a great way of surprising him." He grinned up at his father.

"Just stay out of trouble."

"I don't look for trouble, trouble just finds me."

The man chuckled. "And you wonder why I am sending you away." He looked up to the minder sitting behind his son. "Thank you."

The woman frowned back at him. "I do not do this for you, knight, I do this for our king and crown prince. I am not happy about being reduced to the role of wet nurse."

He knew this already. Bow had made her feelings on the matter very clear to anyone who would listen. It was a shame, as she was a happy woman was normally, full of life. However, this tedious task that she had been assigned to had taken its toll and sent her into a foul mood. She would recover soon enough.

"I am aware of your feelings. Do you have the letter?"

She reached into the dark folds of her cloak, pulling out a thin roll of parchment, a red seal locking it shut.

"What makes you think he will accept your request?"

It was a reasonable question, but it also showed a lack of any knowledge on the man in question.

"Because he is a good man, and even if he does not accept the request, his son will change his mind. Just keep _my_ son safe."

"I will." She shifted in her seat, taking a firmer hold of the reigns. "When I return I expect to see Prince Reks as king and the traitors dead or imprisoned."

The man straightened. "I swear, on my honour as a knight of Dalmasca, that when you return the rightful heir will be on the throne." He turned back to his son. "Stay safe."

The boy thumbed his chest. "I swear by my honour as a son of a knight of Dalmasca," he imitated his father's words, with a little effort. "…at least I will try."  
"We should move." Bow said, turning the chocobo down the road leading away from their home.

She gave the knight one last nod before kicking the giant bird into a sprint. He watched them go, till they were no more than a speck in the distance. His face shifted, becoming grim. The next few weeks were going to be very difficult.

(&)

At another crossroad, less north but further east, three other mounted men sat waiting. However, these men rode horses, not chocobos. It was a matter that plagued the mind of one of them. Kain frowned at the fourth horse whose reigns he held, its rider in the nearby village. His face was exposed to the world as they travelled light, minimal armour and minimal weight to drag down their journey, which meant he had had to leave his helmet in Shinra. Even Firion only carried his bow and quiver with him. He turned to the man in question.

"Would it not be best if we sold the horses? The further west we travel, the more attention they will attract."

Firion didn't seem bothered by the notion. "It does not matter. We are not operating under stealth. Walking round would take too long, unless you would rather ride an overgrown chicken. I am sure Cecil would not object."

At the description of the alternative mode of transport Kain stiffened. Him? On an overgrown chicken? His pride wouldn't take it. He tilted his head towards the other man, silently conceding the point.

The master of arms smiled, knowing he'd won, and turned back to look at the village.

"If Cecil does not appear soon, I will be forced to leave without any parting words."

"Do you ride to Dalmasca?" Kain asked.

Firion nodded. "Yes, I have a missive from the Lord Sephiroth to friends of his in the city. They may be able to assist us, otherwise my companion and I will search the city."

"A difficult task, I hear it is a large city."

"Far larger than Shinra, but I hope to have help."

Kain nodded, and something caught his attention in the corner of his eye. He let himself smile.

"Finally, Cecil appears."

They turned to see the Lord approaching; the cloth that normally covered his face had been pulled down. The dark knight had taken to doing this when speaking with the Celts. He'd noticed that his strange dress made them uneasy and his hidden face made him daunting, so he uncovered his face to put them at ease. Kain didn't see the point, but then, that was Cecil: too kind for his own good. Still, it worked, and it was why they had all changed into their Celtic clothes. Horses were one thing, but drawing attention to oneself needlessly in the towns was another; they did want to find the child eventually. The task would be a lot harder if no one would talk to them.

Kain called out to his friend as he drew close, noticing the bundle in Cecil's hand.

"Cecil! What took you so long?"

The dark knight swung up onto his horse and unwrapped the bundle. The three other men leaned in to get a better look as he lifted up the object enough for them to see. Kain blinked in surprise. It was…

"…a dress?" Firion voiced his surprise. He looked up at his friend. "You do realise that dresses are women's clothing?"

Kain burst out laughing at the slightly hurt look on Cecil's face.

"Of course I know."

This made Kain laugh harder. "This is a new side to you that I never knew. Perhaps I shall see you as the heroine the next time I see go to the Noh theatre."

Firion bent over his horse laughing. Cecil sent his friends an annoyed look, trying to hide his own amusement.

"It's for Rosa, not me. I doubt she will wear anything from Shinra."

Kain shock his head, letting his laugh die down. He should have known.

Firion's companion had his own comment to add though. "You are too kind to the woman. You should tell her that if she refuses to wear what she is given, then she can wear nothing at all."

Firion's amusement evaporated, his eyes snapping to his travelling companion. "Start riding, Kuroki."

Kuroki's jaw clenched, noting the manner in which his companion addressed him, without title or honorific, a blatant disrespect. Kain mentally dared him to say something, but the boy's mouth remained firmly shut as he spun his horse round and rode away.

"I am sorry."

Cecil shook his head, repacking the dress. "There is no need to apologise." He turned to tie his bundle to the saddle. "Perhaps no need for your companion to apologise either."

"He is the son of a country lord; he has no right to speak to you in such a manner."

"No, but he only says what others are thinking."

At least Kain could rest his mind on one matter; his friend was no fool.

"I should follow him. I hope one of us is successful."

"We have a dozen groups across this land, one of us will find him." Cecil reassured Firion.

The master of arms smiled back. "Let us hope it is one of us. May your lives be free of Chaos."

"May your life be free if Chaos," Kain echoed, but in his heart he doubted the farewell would come true.

Firion spun his horse round and galloped after his young companion, leaving behind the two friends to truly begin their search for the sacrifice.

* * *

**Noh-** For those who don't know, it's a traditional form of play in Japan. The men play both male and female parts, which is what Kain jokes about Cecil playing the heroine after he buys a dress.

**Lack of honorific- **I know it's more to do with intimacy and that's why it's unwelcome to not use a honorific if you aren't very close, but I'm taking a little artist licence here.

* * *

Hey guys, it'd be nice to know what you guys think of this, constructive critism included in that.

I pormise something will start happening soon.


	9. Baths

Sorry for the long update wait, I'm currently trying to juggle a lot of things at the moment.

**Chapter 8**

No matter how hard she tried, Rosa found that she could not dislike Akiko, her maid. Not in good conscience. There was something about the girl's boundless enthusiasm that she found hard to hate. It wasn't an active, bouncy kind of enthusiasm, but rather a more quiet joy and determination to serve her mistress as well as she could. The priestess tried to strengthen her resolve by thinking that the girl only did this out of a sense of duty and privately thought cruel things about her mistress. However, there was a sincerity in her actions and eyes that said otherwise. Ever since the maid had laid eyes on her new mistress, and quietly said how pretty the priestess was, she seemed to do everything she could to make Rosa as comfortable as possible.

Rosa's initial coldness had not put the girl off. Akiko had suggested activity after activity, brought new clothes, which the priestess refused to touch, and constantly suggested going for walks in the garden. When food was brought, she showed her how to eat it with the strange instruments, hashi – long wooden sticks that she had no idea how to use – and say what everything was. Rosa had finally given into boredom and let the maid teach her how to play _Go_, and the other girl's happiness was unmistakable.

That's what they were doing now. The priestess of Cosmos was still getting to grips with the rules of the game, but, looking up at the girl opposite her, she realised that she was developing a strong affection for Akiko. Cecil had been right when he had said that they were about the same age. Like most Jenovans she had seen, the girl had silver hair, which she pulled back into a loose ponytail. She had a slime frame, another common trait she had noticed about the native woman, and bright green eyes. She wondered if all Jenovans had such bright eyes.

Cecil also hadn't been lying about another fact; the girl spoke a little Celtic and she soon discovered how true the little part was. While they were able to communicate simple matters, more complex conversation was difficult. Her sentences were often wrong, but not necessarily beyond understanding, while gestures still played an important part of their communications.

Rosa placed one of the smooth, pebble-like piece, on the board taking one of her opponent's black ones.

Akiko smiled up at her. "Lady Rosa has winned."

The priestess smiled back, not having the heart to correct the 'winned'. To begin with she would always correct the girl out of spite, not that Akiko always understood what was wrong, but now she had warmed up to her. However, she'd given up trying to get the maid to refer to her as 'priestess' rather than 'lady', the Jenovan just wouldn't do it.

The door opened and a servant slipped inside. The new servant's eyes drifted to Rosa, a practice that the priestess was getting used to, before she spoke to Akiko.

"Onsen ha goyoui shimashita." Her voice was curt and she didn't wait for Akiko to respond before slipping back out of the room.

Her maid turned to her. "Lady Rosa can wash?"

The priestess was slightly taken aback by the sudden comment. She was about to object that she had no need of a bath when she caught sight of her robes. The once pure white cloth looked grey, the occasional stain spotting the front. Her hair hung limply around her shoulders, unpleasant to touch, and she realised that she must smell terrible. After all that had happened, she'd never really given a thought to the change in her bathing habits. When she was still in Zanarkand, she would have started each morning, at day break, by cleansing herself in the temple pool, followed by an anointing by a high priestess, so that her body and mind were clean for the day ahead. Rosa used to smell of incense and sweet oils, but no more.

The girl's throat tightened. She'd never smell those scents again, not in this new land with strange new smells. Everything she had grown up with, the smells of the temple, the ritual routines, the sounds of chanting, the bustle of the market and the sight of the guards. She closed her eyes against the rising nausea of homesickness. She wanted to go home.

"Lady Rosa?" She opened her eyes and looked up at her maid, watching her nervously. "Bath…please?"

Rosa nearly laughed. She must really smell bad. "Yes, I'd like a bath."

Akiko relaxed and, smiling slightly, she stood and led her mistress from the room. It must have been one of the first times that Rosa had been in the corridors since she had arrived. Everything was so different. She didn't think she'd ever seen so much wood in her life, and the use of paper everywhere turned her head. Lord Cecil must be a very rich man to be able to afford so much paper, and for such bizarre uses as well. It was a strangeness that made her nerves rise as she stepped further and further away from the comfort of the room she'd been staying in.

It didn't help that the servants all stopped to stare at her, their expressions a mixture of curiosity, wonder and disgust. They stayed away from her, but she could hear whispers as she walked by.

"Ano kata Cecilsamano gaikokujindesuka."

She knew they were talking about her and it made her skin prickle uncomfortably. She tried to hold her head up high, but hushed tones battered against her confidence. She tried to pick out what they were saying, but all she achieved was to make her more agitated at her lack of understanding. No matter how clearly she could hear the voices, she'd never be able to know what they said.

"Gaijin nominna wa konna ni iya na nioi ga suru no."

"Kimochi warui yo ne." Rosa turned her head, searching for the owners of the voices, but no one meet her eyes. All she saw were silver and pale blonde heads blending into the background.

"Cecil-sama no onsen ga yogoredarake ni naru hazu desu."

Recognising the Lord's name, Rosa once again tried to catch sight of the speaker. The name leapt out amongst the sea of nonsense. However, she barely had time to glance back when she heard another hiss behind her.

"Egetsunai gaijin."

The voice was filled with such disgust that it made her flinch, and she found herself drawing closer to her maidservant. They hated her, all of them. She hated this place, for all its strangeness and the way it made her feel so alone. She was beginning to realise how isolated she was. Akiko looked back at her.

"Is Lady Rosa well?"

"They hate me."

"Hate?"

"Dislike very much."

She seemed to understand. "Lord Cecil likes Rosa."

Rosa wished he didn't; she wouldn't be in this mess if that was the case. She wasn't looking forward to his return, an occasion that would hold much uncertainty, and yet…and yet part of her yearned for a friendly face. It was part of her that she couldn't accept, she couldn't trust her captor.

Akiko seemed to realise that her comment hadn't given Rosa any comfort and she continued.

"I like Lady Rosa."

She nearly stopped in her tracks at the girl's admittance. There was a slight nervousness in her maid's expression, as if wondering if she had overstepped her boundaries. The girl was so different to the other servants that Rosa couldn't help but smile. Akiko seemed to relax and returned Rosa's smile in a way that made the priestess very glad.

It was then that Rosa realised how very lonely she was. She had been so caught up with other matters that she hadn't realised how much, until now. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to have a friend by her. Akiko had been good to her, no matter how cold she was, and she'd never made the effort to repeat the favour. If she was stuck here anyway, then surely she deserved one person she could look to as a friend. With this in mind, the stares didn't seem quite so harsh or the whispers so intimidating.

Akiko stopped and slid a door back, stepping to the side to allow her mistress to pass. Rosa stopped, startled, this wasn't what she was expecting. The mention of a bath had conjured up images of a large stone room with a sunken pool, the waters heated by fires under the floor. The reality could not be further from the truth. She wasn't even indoors anymore. She could see the stars far above their heads and the trees reached above the tall wooden fences that marked off the area and gave the bather privacy. The bath was curious**, **it didn't seem to be manmade, but rather a large rock pool which let off a slight unpleasant order. Steam rose from the water.

Steam. The sight seemed to pull her towards the waters. If there was steam that must mean…

"The water is hot?" She'd never have thought the Jenovans would be able to heat their baths.

"Yes," Akiko closed the door behind them, "water of the mountain."

"Is all mountain water hot?" She never thought it would be.

The maid shook her head. "No, but…" Rosa recognised the look on Akiko's face. It was the look she had whenever she was looking for a word or wondering how to structure a sentence. "Onsen is hot."

It didn't explain anything to her; she just guessed that the bath was an 'onsen', not that it mattered. She let the tips of her fingers dip into the waters and pulled them back roughly from the heat. It really was hot. She lowered her fingers in slower, keeping them there till they grew used to the hot waters. She smiled. A hot bath sounded almost divine and her body seemed to beg to be submerged in the waters, to rinse away the filth and rest her mind.

Reaching up she unpinned her robes where it was held at her shoulders. The material fell away, and bunched around the cord tied at her waist.

"Akiko-chan!"

The shout came from the other side of the door. Bowing to her mistress, the girl in question promised to return 'quick'. As the maid stepped towards the door, Rosa quickly stepped to the side and out of view. While she didn't mind Akiko being present while she undressed, she was used to bathing with her sisters after all, she certainly didn't want to be seen half naked by any passerby.

Rosa watched as the other girl disappeared back into the building. She hesitated for a moment, before swiftly moving back towards the door. She may not be able to understand what they were saying, but she could pick up on tones.

"…onsen ni haitteiru?," The new voice hissed, the deepest suggesting that the woman was older than Akiko.

Rosa untied the cord from around her waist slowly as she listened to the exchange.

"Cecil-sama no shoukyaku no desu."

"Gaijin na inpu desu." It was very clear from way the words were spat out that the comment was unpleasant.

If the older woman had been speaking to Rosa, than the priestess would have shrunk away from the tone, but Akiko stayed firm. Her voice held a determined edge to it.

"Roza-sama wa Cecil-sama no shoukyaku desu." The same words as last time, she was sure. Whatever she was saying, Akiko must think it was a very important point to base her argument on it.

The elder woman hissed something undetectable and, much to Rosa's relief, she could hear her walk away. The door opened and Rosa quickly removed her dress, not wanting to appear as if she was eavesdropping. She picked up the cloth as Akiko stepped into the room, holding it in front of her. The maid bowed to her once more and reached forward to take again the dress.

Panicking, the priestess quickly stepped away, clutching the robes to her. "I need them."

Akiko quickly shuffled past her, stopping by a small raised platform. She bend over a basket that lay on top, setting aside a large piece of cloth that Rose assumed was to dry herself with, and picked up a bundle. Turning she presented it to her mistress. In Akiko's hands was a dress, not the Jenovan clothing that the other girl wore, but a real Celtic style dress. It looked a little wrong, though she couldn't place how.

She had to admit that she was grateful for the girl considering her, if not a little surprised that she could find such clothes in Shinra, but she shook her head. Her robes were a mark of her order, she could not simple discard them to one side. Throw away her upbringing, beliefs and all she had worked for. Though a small voice at the back of her head pointed out that it hardly mattered what robes she wore. A priestess of Cosmos was a priestess of Cosmos. No, this robe was the only thing she had left of her home.

(&)

"For the love of the Great Goddess Ultimecia, if we do not stop to bathe before the end of the night, I will be forced to kill you," Kain growled across at his friend, shifting on top of his horse.

Cecil turned, not in the least perturbed by his friend's threat. "I am afraid that I have no idea where the closest town is. For all I know, it maybe four days rides from here."

"I do not see why we cannot just return to the river and ride beside it."

Here they go again. They'd had this discussion every other day since they'd parted ways with Firion.

"Because, the lord of these lands is a poor protector. The river is a common road for caravans, but it is also swarming with bandits. If we went that way, we risk having to fight our way down stream."

"But we would be able to bathe."

"Yes, but your clothes and horse would be stolen."

"At the moment, I am willing to take that risk."

Cecil smiled across at his friend. "Perhaps I should let you. It would entertain me no end to see you roam the Celtic lands naked."

Kain shot his friend a deadly glare. Apparently, he was not in the mood for jokes. "We can take care of any bandits."

"Perhaps, but if we have to fight every group of petty bandits from here to the Atlanta Sea, then our journey will take us six years, not six months and we would attract much attention. I would rather avoid pointless fightingin order to achieve our mission quickly and smoothly."

Kain looked ahead of them. "You may not get your wish, friend."

Following Kain's gaze, Cecil looked back down the dirt road before them. Three men had stepped out into their path.

"Let us hope that you are wrong."

The men watched as the mounted Jenovans drew closer to their human road block. Cecil and Kain pulled their horses to a halt several feet from the Celts.

"Good afternoon, strangers." Cecil switched to Celtic, keeping his tone friendly. "Perhaps you can help my friend and I. We wish to spend the night at an inn; can you direct us to the nearest town?"

"That I can," the central man said, obviously the leader, "but it will cost ye more than a few coins."

"Then I am afraid that we have nothing to offer you. We are simple travellers, carrying little money."

The man on the right snorted. "On such strange animals? I think you lie; what do you think, Padraig?"

The first man, Padraig, smirked. "I think you are right, Gairdh. What do think, Iain?"

"I think men with such lordly bearings must carry a lot of gold on them." The voice came from behind them and Cecil turned his head to see that three more men had come up behind them.

"How kind," Kain muttered dryly.

"If you have no money," Padraig called to them, "then we can take that spear as payment."

"The only way you will have my weapon is when it impales your body," Kain growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously, as his hand grasped the spear handle.

If Cecil let this continue, then they really would be thrown into a blood bath. He wanted to avoid that, no matter how one-sided it would be.

"Then we shall continue on our way."

Cecil was about to kick his horse forward when Padraig interrupted him again. "Not so fast. There is a tax if you want to pass through my land."

"Your land?" Kain's question was tinged with amusement. "Times must be hard for the lord of these lands to be reduced to such pitiful work. I must apologise, I thought you a petty thief."

The thug's eyes narrowed and Cecil kept his exasperation from his face. It looked as if Kain was determined to draw them into a conflict. If this continued, Rosa would get her wish and he would never return home due to Cecil catching a nasty case of death.

He switched back to his native tongue to speak to Kain. "I was trying to avoid a fight."

"I know," Kain curtly replied, "but do you truly think we can avoid this fight?"

"I can try."

"Hmph, then you are a fool. Even if they take our money they will try to kill us."

Cecil didn't take Kain's jibe to heart; he didn't really think that Cecil was a fool. His eyes slide back to the men standing behind them. The centre man, Iain, carried a heavy sword by his waist. Cecil sniffed disapprovingly at the rust coating the blade. To his right was a redheaded man with an axe, while on the left was a young boy looking nervous.

"There are six of them, but we should be able to charge straight through the ones before us."

"Oi, what are you talking about?" They ignored Padraig.

"Run away from this scum?" Kain all but sneered. "We can crush them easily."

"We are here to look for the sacrifice, not to rid the Celtic lands of bandits when its lords are unable to."

Kain grunted, but didn't argue.

"I asked you what you are talking about?" Padraig was shouted this time, clearly annoyed at being ignored.

"Silence when we are talking, peasant," Kain snapped in Celtic at the startled thug before switching back to Jenovan. "Are these men really worth sparing?"

"Perhaps not, but are they worth fighting?"

Kain rearranged his grip on his spear handle, ready to strike. "Then the leader is mine."

He kicked his horse into a gallop, not waiting for his friend to respond. Cecil drew his sword, prepared to follow his friend into another fight. He saw the leader fall under Kain's lance as his own sword flashed and down went the man on the left of the late Padraig. That should have been the end of the matter, they should have galloped off, leaving the thugs to bury their dead and return to their terrorising of travellers. Instead he heard Kain cry out.

Cecil spun his horse round, his eyes scanning the area for his friend. Kain's horse saddle was empty, but the horse was still moving. The other man's helmet lay in the road and, not two feet away from it, was the spear. It took a second to realise that Gairdh had managed to grab his friend and drag him from the horse, another second and he realised that Kain's foot was caught in the stirrup, dragging him behind the horse.

Cecil barely registered Gairdh rolling to his feet, his attention on his friend as he pushed his horse forward to cut off Kain's. The horse reared, startled as the general appeared in its path. In one swoop, Cecil had taken hold of the rogue horse's reigns. He tried to calm the creature before it trampled his friend, but on the edge of his vision, he saw Gairdh sprinting towards him.

"Kain." The general's tone was warning.

"I know," the man snapped back, "I am working on it."

Gairdh was nearly upon them now, but until Kain freed himself he was defenceless. Cecil did the only thing that he could think to do to save his friend from an untimely death: he threw his sword at Gairdh. In retrospect, while the sword found its mark, sliding through the Celt's throat, this wasn't the smartest action Cecil could have taken. Now, he was weaponless with three Celts advancing on them, the boy, the redhead and that man Iain.

Below him, Kain finally managed to get his foot free. At least the man could look after himself now, Cecil needed to get his sword back. Throwing his leg over the saddle, he leapt over his friend. Gairdh fell to his knees, his eyes wide and his hands rose to feebly batter at the sword, trying to pull it out. That, Cecil could help him with. As he dashed past the man, he grabbed the sword and pulled it roughly from the throat, causing blood to spurt forth from the gaping wound.

The men were upon him. Swinging his blade up, he met Iain's rusty sword. As they locked blades, the red head ran past them and straight at Kain. The young boy, however, hung back. He seemed realise that these were not helpless travellers they were dealing with. He broke away from the attack and Iain swung his blade down again. Cecil easily side-stepped the heavy movement watching as the Celt stumbled under his own momentum. How amateurish. Cecil lightly pushed the man causing him to lose his balance and crash to the floor. Stabbing down, he ended Iain's life.

That was easy, surprisingly so. Jerking the blade out of the body he looked at it in disgust. It was covered in the blood of a man barely worth killing. The last time it had been covered in blood like this was…

He cut himself off there, pushing the memories of Zanarkand to the back of his mind where they belonged. He needed to check on his friend. Turning, he saw his companion walking towards him with a murderous expression; the red-head man lay dead at the feet of the horses. Cecil knew he wasn't the person Kain was making his way to; it was the boy standing to the side. The adolescent was backing away with every step Kain took towards him.

"Kain, he is just a boy," Cecil tried to reason with his friend, but the words fell on deaf ears. The other men had attacked them, but this boy would run without afight. They couldn't justify killing this child. He wasn't sure how many more innocents his conscience could take.

Losing his nerve, the boy turned and ran. Kain shot forward, scooping up his spear as he went. The boy had a head start, but despite this, and Kain being battered and bruised, the child was no match for the Jenovan. Grabbing the collar, he threw the Celt to the ground, the tip of his blade tickling the boy's throat. Cecil's heart skipped a beat, he wouldn't…no, he would. He was running to them before he knew it, reaching out to pull his friend's spear arm back.

"Listen boy," the blond growled out. "I am tired. I am covered in dirt, sweat and blood. I want a bath." Cecil stopped by the pair, trying not to burst out laughing, in relief as much as humour. This really was an excessive measure. "I will let you live, if you tell where the nearest inn is."

"Border town," the boy blurted out, on the verge of tears.

"Border town?" Cecil repeated curiously. "A strange name."

"It is the last town in these lands; the other side of the river is Radiant Garden."

"What is this Radiant Garden like?" Kain asked this time.

"I do not know."

"How far is this town and the border?"

"Half a day, just follow the road."

"So close, and yet you have never crossed in those lands?"

"No, sir, the region is patrolled and they deal with all bandits they find, especially since Zanarkand."

"You know about Zanarkand?" Cecil wasn't sure why this matter distressed him so much; it was only to be expected that news had spread this far.

"Everyone knows that the Holy City fell in a night. Since then the patrols have doubled in Radiant Garden. So, it is impossible for us to…" he cut himself off before swallowing, "work. The Lord looks after his land and those within it."

Inspiration hit Cecil. "What do they do with the men from Zanarkand they find?"

"I do not know, but I heard that they are taken away to the capital and cared for. Padraig thought that we might be able to fool them into thinking we needed aid as well."

Kain and Cecil shared a knowing look. Kain withdrew his spear. "Get out of my sight."

The boy scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

"What do you think**,** friend?"

Cecil turned to Kain at his question. "It sounds hopeful, the first piece of information that we have to work with. It would be stupid to completely ignore it."

Kain nodded and looked down the road. "To Radiant Garden then, but first, I will have that bath."

**End of Chapter 8**

Blah. I hope you like it. The more I go over this chapter the less I like it and the more I think that I should have just skipped it. Well, we go back to Radiant Garden in the next chapter.


	10. Messager

**A/N: **Blah, another long break, but with a very good excuse this time. Since I last updated, I've moved to Japan (as a few of you already know) and so, as you can expect, but life was rather busy for a 'long' time (I think a couple of months can hardly be called a long time in this instance).

**Chapter 9**

A bubble of laughter escaped the small boy as Raine attacked his waist with her finger tips, wriggling in his blankets as he tried to escape the nimble digits. He was still such a shy and reserved child that it warmed Raine's heart to hear such a happy sound coming from the boy. As the fortnight had passed, the woman felt as if the child was finally beginning to relax in her and her family's presence. He smiled more and played simple games with her as she tried to teach him words in the Celtic tongue.

She withdrew her hands and waved her digits. "Fingers."

He imitated her action, repeating the word softly in a heavily accented voice. Soft; the word soft seemed to describe everything about this boy. Even Ellone had more hard edges to her when she was his age. Though, she supposed it didn't help that he was swamped in Squall's old clothes.

He was such a sweet natured boy and now that he had had a few square meals under his belt, he was turning out to be quite the pretty little thing as well. Perhaps that was how he came to be the scared and dirty child that had found his way to her home…

The embroidery that she had set on her lap slipped, falling to the floor with a soft clatter. Sighing, she bent down to pick up her forgotten work. While sitting beside the sleeping blond, she had had a great deal of time on her hands for her needlework. However, as the child spent more time awake she spent more time occupying him and less time on her work. Not that it truly mattered; the embroidery was there more to keep her hands busy and her mind free, than it was out of a real need to finish.

As the patterned material appeared over the top of the bed, she noticed how Boy- they really had to find a better name for him- looked at the object with curiosity. It was the first time he had looked at her pasttime with any interest; perhaps it was yet another sign that he was becoming more comfortable with the woman. She smiled down at him and held out her work.

"Would you like to see?"

She held it in front of him, but he didn't take it, merely examining it from his spot, tilting his head to inspect an area closer. He turned to smile up at her.

"Kirei desu."

She had no idea what he had just said, though she could hazard a good guess. She didn't think he was stating that she was stitching flowers into the cloth; he had taken her lead and pointed to things when he spoke of them. His tone was pleasant, so she guessed he had just paid her a compliment.

"Thank you," she said, adding one of the few words she had understood in his language afterwards. "Arigatou."

The boy's smile widened. He did this on the few occasions when she said a word she understood from his tongue. She wasn't sure if it was because she was speaking words he knew and it made him happy, or if it amused him to hear her speak the foreign word, or simply if her pronunciation was just dreadful.

"Shall I show you how to do this?"

"Be careful Raine; you may really turn him into a girl."

At the sound of the new voice from the doorway, Boy jumped and pulled back. Raine resisted the urge to sigh; there were still things that they hadn't been able to change, though. Every time there was a knock at the door or the door opened, the child would jump out of his skin. It was as if he was expecting someone to come and spirit him away, someone he didn't want to see.

Raine rested a hand on the child's shoulder to soothe him and turned to frown at her husband.

"You must remember not to scare the poor child."

Laguna grinned at her sheepishly. "I am sorry. I forget how skittish he is." The chief turned to Boy and, hand over his heart, bowed deeply. "You have my deepest and most sincere apologies, little one."

The blond giggled, his cheeks colouring slightly. Raine felt the corners of her mouth twitch upwards with affection for her lovable husband, until she noticed the absence of two small presences.

"Will Squall and Ellone not join us tonight?"

Usually when her husband joined her in the evenings, so did her children. It was heartening to see just how comfortable Boy had grown around the children, especially when Aerith joined her mother when she took over her watch from Raine. He was even comfortable enough to let Squall and Ellone sit on his bed as they spent the evening together.

She knew that perhaps she shouldn't be surprised. She could tell that her son's interest in the boy was wavering. The child was no longer new and communicating with him was not always easy. To the child's mind, his own friends, who could run around with him in the fields and town, seemed far more appealing. Perhaps she should let Boy out to play with Squall and his companions. He was getting healthier every day and the activity would no doubt do him good.

Laguna shook his head. "Tonight they sneak off to the hidden depths of Balamb and hideaway in 'The Lion's Heart'. I wonder how they manage to fill so many evenings in that Inn."

"Stories. They sit in Master Trepe's Inn to listen as Wendy tells them stories,-" Raine answered. "I would have thought that you would know that."

Laguna looked a little embarrassed at his failing, rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke. "Still? The girl must have a lot of tales to occupy them through so many nights, or perhaps just long ones."

"I suspect a little bit of both. She has the markings of a great storyteller. Her parents are trying to save the money for Cid to teach her the old stories and legends. If she can master those then she can fill a role that is sorely missed in our town."

"Would his wife not be the better choice; she is a storyteller herself."

Raine set her embroidery back on her lap, shaking her head. "And when would she teach the girl? She travels with her company and only comes to rest in Balamb for a couple of months, if that. During that period she has other matters to occupy her time."

"She could take an apprenticeship and travel with the Tantalus."

"Edea will only take another sorceress, or potential one, as her apprentice. She searches for a successor, not a student."

Laguna sighed, resting back in his chair. "It is unfortunate, but at least Elle will still be happy. I do not think she would be happy to see her friend sent away."

"She would be just as excited to hear stories of new places; there are only so many times we can listen to your exaggerated tales."

"Exaggerated? Do you not believe my honesty?"

"Do I look like a gullible fool?"

Between them, the little blond looked back and forth as they spoke in turns, his expression one of bemusement. Catching the child's confusion Laguna halted his undoubtedly 'witty' retort. He grinned down at the boy.

"Sorry little one, this must be very boring for you."

Boy looked up at him before turning to Raine, gazing up at her with those beautiful blue eyes as a blank smile spread across her face. A knock at the door stopped the trio from progressing into a more enjoyable activity for the child. Laguna stood and walked to the door, pulling it open a crack.

"My Liege-" The voice beyond the door was unknown to her. "I bring you urgent news from Dalmasca."

The chief hesitated before swinging the door fully open and letting the messenger inside. The servant didn't as much as glance around the room before handing the scroll to Laguna, who set about untying the string. No seal, Raine noted; it wasn't from friends or a man of standing then.

Raine carefully watched her husband's face as he read the missive. His expression remained calm and serious, giving her indication that he was reading bad news which brooked no room for jokes. Her fears seemed to be confirmed when he reached the end of the message and read through again. He was thinking very carefully under the guise of studying the letter.

"The King of Dalmasca has died," the chief suddenly announced before looking up at the messenger. "When did this happen?"

"Two days past. I have ridden hard to deliver this message to you as quickly as the gods would permit."

"He was a good king," Raine stated, "and it is sad news," but why such tragic faces? The message could be a 'request' to attend the new king's coronation. He would be obliged to make the trip to the capital for the king of such a powerful nation, but the timing was dreadful. True, it had been over a month since Zanarkand and nothing had happened since, but it was hardly enough time to relax their guard. Then there was Boy… "When will the crown prince be crowned?"

"He may not be." Laguna rolled up the scroll again, tying the string around the paper as he continued. "The Crown Prince…erm…"

When he struggled to produce a name the messenger came to his rescue.

"Prince Reks."

"I knew it was a strange name…Prince Reks is still young, not much older than Squall. His position is weak and men are looking to take advantage of that. When will be easier to dispose of the boy than now, while he is still helpless, and then kill his younger siblings? Or they could keep the Princess until she comes of age and can marry a man who wishes to strengthen his claim with a legitimate tie. Dalmasca is about to be turned into a war for power and its princes and princess may not live to tell the tale." He shook his head. "Three children's lives for a double edged sword."

Once again the messenger spoke up. "He has the Knights behind him, as well as the Turks and the May Roses."

Laguna suddenly beamed widely. "Then I am sure he will ascend to the throne in no time. With such mighty forces at his back, how can he not be the next noble King of Dalmasca?"

'Not true, husband,' Raine thought. However, she suspected he was fully aware of this.

"Thank you for the news," Laguna said to the courier. "I am sure you must be exhausted and hungry after such a trying journey. Go to Kiros and he will give you enough coin to rest and eat in the inn for a couple of nights, with something for your troubles as well."

The servant dropped to his knee, his fist striking his breast. "Thank you my liege, you are most generous."

He stood and genuflected to Raine, "My Lady."

Then he came to the young boy seated with them, who had turned a startling shade of white, his eyes wide and scared. The man seemed uncertain on how to proceed with this strange boy. It was as clear as day that he wasn't a Leonhart and yet he shared the company of the chief and his wife.

"That is all," Raine said her voice calm but the pace quick. She did not want to make the poor child any more upset than he clearly was. She really had to take him outside more.

The courier nodded before slipping out of the room in search of a soft bed and a good meal.

The door had barely closed when there was a scrabbling on the bed. Raine turned to see Boy sliding hastily to the ground. Hitting the floor at her husband's feet, he fell to his knees and bowed so low that his forehead touched the wooden floor.

"Moushi wake gozaimasu. Lagunasamawa joushu da to shirimasen deshita."

Laguna's mouth moved wordlessly as he stared down at the boy. She watched as he started putting the pieces together, he expression darkening as he made the connections. Boy had figured out who Laguna was and he was not taking the news well. Raine knew he would work it out sooner or later, but she had expected a reaction of surprise or embarrassment, not fear. Surely the boy knew from the way they had treated him that they didn't care about formalities between them and they meant him no harm.

Her husband bent down, softening the dark expression to confront the child. Slipping his hands under the small child's armpits, he lifted the blond to his feet and gently held him in place so he didn't fall to his knees again. Boy's gaze stayed rooted to the floor, avoiding eye contact.

"There is no need for that." Laguna's voice held its usual light hearted tone to it, yet the child still refused to meet his eyes. Moving his right hand, the Leonhart cupped the child's chin and brought his face up to meet his. Trying to put the boy at easy, Laguna smiled gently. "I have never made a man, or woman, grovel in the dirt for me, much less a child. There is no need for you to bow on your knees like a serf, you are my guest. No more grovelling." He ruffled the boy's hair. "Understand?"

Raine wasn't sure if he did. She wasn't even sure if he understood the meaning of Laguna's dismissal of his actions, he may not even understand what they disproved of it. Reaching down, she pulled Boy onto her lap, wrapping her arms around his waist she pressed a kiss against his temple.

"We are here to look after you, not to make you a servant. No more bowing?"

He looked uncertain, glancing between the chief and his wife. She could not be sure if he caught her meaning, but, if he did, she was sure it would be because of her actions rather than words. He would learn after they corrected him enough times. They could not let this behaviour continue, not to this extreme. It was a cruel thing, to make a child cringe in the dirt.

(&)

Squall watched as the men and priestesses cleared the Main Hall, removing the beds, medicine and items that had turned it into a temporary healing ward and returning it to the way it should be. The children had started the morning by helping the adults, but soon found themselves underfoot and were sent to the edges or doing small tasks out of the way.

Ma Dinct walked by, helping a young man, one of the few refugees who had survived, make his way to the temple. He would be placed in the temple before being found work and a place to stay more permanently. Behind them followed Zell, his arms filled with the man's few personal affects. At the other end of the room Selphie skipped around her mother, Lucrecia Tilmitt, as she spoke to one of the survivors. Yet here Squall sat, at the foot of his father's seat, watching the activities with Quistis and Irvine, nothing to do but think.

The returning of the hall to its normal function would mark the return of the feasts and ceilis, which excited everyone. However, to the child's eyes, it also marked the end of an exciting period when lessons were cancelled and events, so similar to the beginnings of Wendy's stories, took place. To clear away the Main Hall was like announcing the end of a small adventure to the children, declaring that the town would be returning to the mundane life from before. He was sure that even Boy would be sent away to stay at the temple soon.

There was one more vital suggestion that came from the return of the Main Hall: the promise of his lessons resuming. It filled him with a new sense of urgency; to occupy his remaining time as best as he could. There were games to play, streets to run in and trees to climb, none of which could be done until Selphie and Zell were free to join them. He would have preferred being given something to do, but no one was willing to give the son of the chief a task unless he insisted, a job that was becoming increasingly tedious and so he had given up to sit at the side with Irvine and Quistis. If his mother or aunt were here, they would give him a job.

As if summoned by his thoughts, his mother appeared in the hall and the boy blinked in surprise, because, right on her heels, was someone when never expected to see in the hall.

"It's boy." At his announcement Irvine and Quistis both turned to look in the direction of his mother.

"He looks so different." Quistis shifted to her knees to see the child better, reminding Squall that this was the first time she had seen the boy since they had found him in the ditch. She wasn't the only on to notice the new arrival. All around the hall, workers were halting their work and craning their necks to get a look at the mysterious child. "He looks timid."

She wasn't wrong. Boy stayed so close to Raine that he was nearly being trodden on, always making sure he was close to the woman's skirts and within easy hiding distance within them. He looked around him in wide-eyed wonder at the great hall and the bustle of activity around him, his mouth just a little open. Noting how people were staring at him, he turned pink and turned his attention to Raine's skirt as he followed her across the hall, stopping beside Selphie's mother. To the side Selphie had ceased her skipping and now looked at Boy eagerly as the two women, good friends, spoke to one another. Seeing his chance, Squall stood and quickly made his way over to the group, his friends chasing after him.

It soon became apparent that he was not the only one with this idea as Raine was soon surround by a group of woman, all trying to peer at the boy clutching at Raine's dress, hiding behind his protector. Stopping beside Selphie, the children could hear what the women were saying.

"Oh Raine, he is a sweet little thing."

Though Boy couldn't understand what they were saying about him, he was clearly embarrassed by all the attention. He poked his head around Raine's legs, only to pull it back again when it was met with a cry from the crowd.

"Such bright blue eyes."

"And what a beautiful shade of blond, so silvery."

"He is small though."

"But he is one of the prettiest things I have ever seen…" A few of the woman giggled.

"Just like a girl." Another woman put in and the group laughed, while the children sniggered.

Confused, Boy looked round at the sound from the children. Looking at Squall, his eyes seemed to beg a million questions to which the older boy could only shrug, a rising sympathy growing within him. To be set upon by the woman of the town in such a way was never pleasant, but the unfortunate boy was clearly very uncomfortable with the situation and Squall could very much relate to that. The boy had only just left his room for the first time and couldn't understand what anyone was saying. Still, it wasn't as if they were doing him any serious harm, or being horrid to him.

"That is enough ladies." Raine's voice was the very essence of patience as she dealt with the women and their moans of disappointment. "He may be pretty, but he also scares easily. If you continue like this he will never come near any of you again."

Sighing and sending wistful looks over their shoulders, the cluster dispersed back into the room to continue with their work, leaving Lucrecia alone with the mother and child. The seamstress smiled down at the boy, but spoke to Raine.

"I see what you mean; he is far smaller than Squall was at his age. Those clothes just will not do for the long run. How many do you need?"

"We are still unsure what we will do with him. Make two sets and if we need more we will ask…"

A tugging at Squall's sleeve demanded his attention. He turned to see Selphie waving at them to leave and spun round, stepping after Irvine who was already making a beeline towards the door. Nodding, he followed suit, barely noting how Quistis hesitated, still curious about the exotic child. She would follow if they all left.

"Selphie."

The girl in question froze in place at the sound of her mother's voice. He could see her wince and he guessed that, strictly speaking, she didn't have permission to run off. The boisterous girl turned back to face her fate. Lucrecia bend down to pick up her work materials from the floor. Straightening, she fixed her daughter with a level gaze.

"Return home by dusk, at the latest."

Selphie grinned and, throwing back an 'I shall', she took off.

"You too, Squall."

He gave a quick nod before running off after his friends to enjoy what freedom he had left under the spring sun.

**End of Chapter 9**

The next chapter will definitely be here sooner. It's already been written out, just needs typing up and beta reading. It was meant for this chapter, but then this chapter would have been very long, so I added the second scene when I typed this up instead and decided to use it for the next chapter and give you a short update wait.


	11. Knights of Dalmasca

A/N: Just a small note in case it bugs people as they read; I image Dalmasca to be a little further along than the rest of the Celtic lands. So it's more like they are entering the very early middle ages/medieval period.

Chapter 10

There was a thick, suffocating air in Dalmasca that had little to do with the weather. The town was tense, its occupants uneasy, and it did not take long to find out why. Firion and his companion had not been in the settlement for more than an hour before they started hearing word of the old King's death and whispers of political unease in the land. Rumours of uprising from overly ambitious men were spreading like wildfire, and every man and woman seemed to have their own view on who would try to take the throne and if the young crown prince would survive until the summer solstice. The soldiers were on edge, hoping to catch wind of a plot to boost their standing, while citizens feared for their future and land. After all, it was they who would be caught in the crossfire.

It was perhaps not the best time for Firion's mission, but he had little choice in the matter. If Lord Sephiroth had entrusted him with a mission, then it was his duty to fulfil it, or die trying. Under normal circumstances it would not have been so difficult, but since Zanarkand and with the threat of civil war, there was little trust or time for foreigners. Wherever he went in the city, uneasy stares followed him, a form of attention he was not used to and was especially unwelcome now. He'd taken to covering his hair so he could move around more discretely.

Deciding that he would have better luck on his own, the Master of Arms had instructed his companion to wait in the inn while he delivered their Lord's message. Celtic settlements were more dangerous than their Jenovan counterparts, especially in times of civil unrest, and he did not desire any harm to befall the younger man due to ignorance of a new environment. So, he had travelled to the large central building, atop this motte, alone. It was a strange, stone building with two layers, isolated on a small hill in the centre of the town, unlike anything Firion had seen anywhere else, in or out of the Celtic lands. However, there was a cold unfriendliness to the place that the Jenovan disliked, and it did not improve the more time he had spent in there.

He had managed to obtain an audience with the man he sought, but he had been shifted from one servant to another, and he sincerely wished that Cecil was here. His friend had a smoother time dealing with these matters, having a far better grasp of the Celtic tongue and ways. Finally he had managed to persuade a head servant of some kind to just mention Lord Sephiroth's name to the man. The servant had looked at him sternly before disappearing into down the corridor. He had returned, looking rather put out, and told Firion to follow him.

He was only delivering a message, but if all went well then he would have extra help finding their sacrifice. However, the more Firion thought on the matter, the less likely it seemed. He had no doubt that they would tell him that, currently, they had no men to help him in his search because they needed every man they had. He could not blame them for giving him such an answer, but it would still be frustrating. The Master of Arms looked back down at the scroll in his hands. If was not for the fact that he had sworn he'd deliver the message, he would not even be here. It would have saved him time and the Celt an audience that he didn't need. However, his duty was his duty, and so here he stood, waiting in the corridor that divided the council chamber from the rest of the building, with little to occupy him but his thoughts. He had been instructed to wait here with the servant until the meeting had finished inside.

The heavy scraping of locks rang down the hall, finally breaking the silence, and the heavy oaken doors creaked open. Firion stood taller, resisting the urge to straighten the Celtic clothing that he had taken to wearing during his travels. Fidgeting like a nervous housewife was not an activity that the Master of Arms should be caught doing. His thoughts seemed to be confirmed when the servant beside him shifted the belt around his waist.

"I shall see if the knights are ready for you," and he skulked off, slipping behind the first members of the meeting.

A strong confident woman walked past the Jenovan man, her head held up high, her posture asserting as much pride and self-assurance as any warrior of Shinra. He didn't need to take note of her attire or the sword resting against her hip to see that the spirit of a warrior rested inside her. She never even graced him with the slightest glance as she strode past, his presence unimportant to her. He may have been insulted by her snub, but instead he found himself curious. Unlike Cecil and Sephiroth, Firion had travelled little, his grasp of the language having been taught to him by his friend's mother rather than first-hand experience. He could not help but wonder about this warrior woman. Where such things common in this land? In the Midgar Valley there were few women who fought. Priestesses were trained to use a bow for ceremonies and other such temple duties, while the Mother's Handmaids _had_ to be excellent fighters, but they were picked from the priesthood. Of course, there were those like Fran, but he could hardly describe her as Jenovan….

He watched the woman march away, a younger lady following in her steps. She couldn't have been much older than the girl that Cecil had brought home. She was too young to be a second, but she wore a warrior's garb and a sword close to hand….perhaps an apprentice then. The air around her was certainly more like that of a student. She flicked her brown curls over her shoulder, an attempt to look as aloft and detached as her mentor, however the curious spark in her eyes as she looked over Firion gave her away. Her steps slowed, her head turning as she walked by him.

"Beatrix, come; do not dawdle." Again the older warrior did not acknowledge him.

The girl's head snapped forward, reminded of her place and how to act before the strange man. She sped up, not quite to a jog, to get back on the heels in front of her.

Behind them men followed, leaving the chamber in pairs in such a manner that Firion suspected that the men left with their seconds or apprentices. The first man appeared to be the male counterpart to the woman who had passed before him, but he clad himself in heavy leather armour rather than the simple clothes she wore. With manner in which strode past the Jenovan, it appeared as if he was marching into battle this very moment, ready to die for his kingdom. Behind him a young man followed, his chest puffed out so that he appeared more comical than domineering. He looked to Firion, but when his master didn't challenge the stranger in the halls, he simply looked away.

The pair behind them appeared to be some kind of dark knights, dressed in black as they were. The leading man even had the lower half of his face hidden away by a piece of cloth, but as he passed by Firion saw another possible reason for this; the man's skin under was discoloured. He'd never seen anything like it before. What could give a man's skin that bluish tinge? He tried not to stare as the man inclined his head to the Jenovan, acknowledging his presence, his second imitating that action behind him. This certainly was turning into an interesting visit. What a strange place Dalmasca was; a large stone town, with larger stone walls where woman could be warriors, and there was a man with tainted skin whose second was from Wutai.

"Lord Firion." The servant once again stood before the entrance to the council chamber. "They are ready to see you."

The man in question turned to the servant, noting how the two 'Dark Knights' stopped further along the corridor, holding a hushed conversation which Firion could not help but feel was a front for their true intentions.

"They?"

"Another knight claims a friendship with your lord."

Firion strode forward, digging around in his mind for the name of the second knight Sephiroth had mentioned. He brushed by the servant, who closed the door behind him, leaving the Jenovan alone with the two warriors.

The room wasn't large by any means, but could comfortably fit a dozen people. It was dominated by a large oak table in the centre and surrounded by sturdy chairs, the one at the head grander than the others; the King's seat. About mid-way down the table, two men sat opposite each other. The man on the right lounged in his seat, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he looked Firion up and down in a manner that grated against the Jenovan's nerves. Despite the man's soft features and graceful manner of the small movements of his slim body, there was a hardness in his demeanour and an arrogance behind the eyes that he disliked.

"Lord Firion, Master of Arms of Shinra." It was the man on the left that spoke.

Unlike his companion, this man's hair was dark, falling to his shoulders where it was unbound, and stubble lined his jaw. Whether this purposeful or because of the stress of the current situation in Dalmasca, he did not know. He looked strong, his muscular form clear from his stature and yet there was a softness about him, a compassion his expression that was at odds with his body. Yet, it was not in the manner of Lord Loz, this Knight did not seem soft in the head or overly emotional. He had the feeling of gentleness that the man opposite him had in body, but lacked in mind.

Firion gave a short bow to each man, not too deep, but just enough to be respectful. After all, these men were friends of his lord and warriors.

"Master Angeal. Master Gensis." He turned back to the first man. As Lord Sephiroth had asked him to deliver the message to that man, he supposed this was the man he should address. "Lord Sephiroth sent me with a message for you."

He stepped forward, holding the message out with his hands for the other man to take it. The knight removed the latter from the hollow bamboo tube it rested in, unrolling it and his eyes scanned the message.

"Well," Genesis drawled into the silence. "Am I permitted to see this mysterious missive, or is it only for the eyes of the wondrous and mighty Angeal?"

"You may read it once I have finished," the man replied, his tone measured but without irritation.

If Angeal was implying his friend should be silent, Genesis ignored the hint.

"What news does our friend have for us?"

"He asks for help." The dark-haired man finished reading and handed the letter out to his friend with one hand. "And his timing could not be worse."

Genesis took the letter from his friend as Firion's heart sank. He knew the chances of being successful were slim, but one could not help but nurse some small hope. Still, they had tracked the child to Zanarkand, he reminded himself as he watched Genesis' eyes flash across the page at an alarming pace, if he was in the city then the two Jenovans could find him.

"Bad timing indeed," Genesis agreed, dropping the letter onto the table before him.

Angeal stroked the handle of a truly impressive broadsword, as he thought. "I am sure you have noticed the current situation that Dalmasca lies in. The King passed away not a week ago and we work hard to maintain the Crown Prince's hold on the throne until he can ascend to take his birthright securely. Even then his rule may not be secure, we have many upraising to suppress. If I am honest, I am not sure that you yourself are safe. People will be wary of strangers considering the current and recent events."

"My companion and I are able to protect ourselves, but I thank you for your concern." Really a Jenovan warrior who could not hold off a few rowdy Celts was no Jenovan at all.

"Fore-warned is fore-armed. I am sure you can understand how difficult it is for me to give you assistance at this time. In this town you would have as much luck finding a needle in a haystack. I have no men to spare, much less my own time." The warrior removed his hand from the handle to run his hand along his stubble. "Perhaps I could persuade Shadow to lend you one of his Turks. Any one of their number would be more useful to your cause than one of my own men."

Genesis snorted. "Good luck with getting blue face to give up one of his own. You have already stolen one of his members."

Blue face? The strange man who stood outside flashed through his mind. "The Dark Knight?"

An amused look passed between the two friends.

"Not an inappropriate title," Genesis drawled.

"I am not sure that Lord Cecil would agree," Angeal countered.

"You know of Lord Cecil?" He knew that his friend had spent a significant length of time in the Celtic lands, especially Dalmasca, but he never imaged that the Dark Knight would know the same people as their Lord.

"Know, but not well. I could not describe us as friends, but perhaps acquaintances. I met him on several occasions while he lived in the town and I found him a likable person; a good sense of honour."

The corner of the Genesis' mouth twitched up. "That's all that matters to our Angeal; honour."

"If a man had his honour then other desirable qualities are sure to follow."

"I must agree with Sir Angeal," Firion interjected.

Angeal smiled across at Genesis. "See, you are outnumbered friend, but," and he turned to their guest, "I am afraid that does not change the short supply of my men. I will ask Shadow if he can spare a man, but it is unlikely as the Turks prefer to keep to themselves. However, they may be willing to pass along any information they have acquired, as long as it does not interfere with their personal interests." The knight leaned back in his chair, once again stroking his jaw line. "Yes, I can see what information they are willing to pass along, it may not be much, but if there is an unusual foreign boy in Dalmasca, the Turks would know."

The man stood then, letting his hand drop to the table. "I am sorry that I cannot offer you some greater assistance; Sephiroth is a good friend."

Firion gave him a shallow bow, sensing that this was the end of their meeting. When he spoke, he was sincere. "I thought I would receive less. This help is much appreciated. I shall take my leave now. Thank you."

Firion turned to leave, feeling more confident than he had upon entering the room. It was perhaps not as much help as his Lord would have expected, but it was more than Firion had hoped for. The dark haired knight had spoken of honour, a concept every Janovan knew well. He had little doubt the man would do all he could as an honourable man and friend.

(&)

Angeal watched the silver haired man before him leave the room, still standing in place. The heavy oak door closed with a loud thunk and he couldn't help the relief that flooded through him.

"Unfortunate timing for him," he heard Genesis drawl from his seat, "but perhaps fortunate for you."

The man couldn't keep the sigh from breaking free any longer. "I fear you are right. I never thought my loyalties to our friend could be tested so harshly."  
"I must admit, I never thought he would send such a request to you. I had believed that Sephiroth would know you better."

"He is desperate. He wants, needs, this child for his people and so he needs our help, even if it means setting aside his pride. He did apologize for asking for my help on such a matter. I should help him."

"Then help him." His friend did not seem at all concerned about the dilemma at hand; on the contrary, he seemed bored by it.

"That would go against every fibre of honour in my body; to send such a small child, any child, to such a fate." Though what shamed him more was the knowledge that when Sephiroth had been in Dalmasca ten years ago, he would have done it in a heartbeat, because that's what his honour would have demanded then. It was strange how a child could shift something so firm as his perception of honour. "How is that honourable?"

"His honour is not your honour." The brunet pointed out.

"Then how is it justified?"

"One orphan, whose life would have ended many years ago on a dirt track, for a lifetime with your Goddess…yes, I can understand that."

At the tone of his friend's voice, Angeal turned to Genesis, a strange light in his poetic friend's eyes as he gazed at the door the Jenovan had left by.

"Will you aid Sephiroth then?" Angeal's gut twisted as he asked the question, fearing his friend's answer. He dreaded being at odds with the man on this matter, especially at this time. However, Genesis snorted and the spell was broken.

"I have neither the time nor the inclination to chase after children, sacrifice or not."

Angeal managed to chuckle. "The loyalties of Master Genesis only go so far."

The man in question gave a dismissive flick of his hand. "When our dear friend decides to show up to search for himself, I shall join him then." A grin spread across his face. "In exchange for a duel."

Angeal shook his head, feeling his good spirit slowly returning. "Little else fills your mind." The head Knight of Dalmasca reached across the table to take the letter from where Genesis had deposited it. As he spoke he rolled the message and pushed it gently back into the tube. "I will seek out Shadow before the morrow and ask whether he has heard any news of a strange child in the kingdom."

Genesis shot him a curious look. "So you still intend to help?"

"I will not search, but I said I would speak with Shadow, and so I must."

"Aaaah. Not helping yourself, but pointing them in the direction of someone who may or may not be able to help them. What a convenient way of avoiding the matter while settling your own conscience."

"You would rather I pick one and saw it through to the end."

"I would see that as the more…honourable path."Genesis smirked before shaking his head. "You are too kind hearted. You should have told the man that Dalmasca is too busy with its own matters."

"No, Sephiroth is a good friend. I must do something to help him if this is important and I have never known anything to be this important to him."

"Yes," Genesis agreed, swinging to his feet and shooting his friend a sly look, "perhaps even important enough to burn the Holy City to the ground."

Angeal couldn't bring himself to correct his friend as he walked to the chamber's exist. He wanted to point out that they could hardly throw out such causal accusations of such a dire crime and he doubted that the Jenovans were powerful or numerous enough for such a deed. His tongue remained still though, his words caught in his throat as he found himself unable to contradict something that may very well be true.

He had thought long and hard about who could and would rape the Holy City so thoroughly, causing so much distress to these lands, but now it was beginning to become worryingly clear. The letter hadn't said as much, but the timing was too good and it had mentioned that the child had been tracked to Zanarkand and thought to have been there during the sacking.

It was a horrible feeling, knowing his friend was partly responsible, but he couldn't hate him. Anyone else he would have taken great pleasure in running them through with his sword, but he knew Sephiroth, liked him. In his eyes Sephiroth was a good man, a great one, and even great men could be pushed to terrible deeds.

**End of Chapter 10**


	12. Ambush

**A/N:** So after seeing what's up with Genesis, Firion, Angeal and Dalmasca, we return to Radiant Garden.

**Chapter 10**

Squall burst out of Master Kramer's longhouse, having finally finished his lessons for the day, leaving him free to find his friends. He stopped in the middle of the street, looking both ways. Whom should he find first?

His cousins were the furthest away, across the bridge in the temple and priests' residence. He could go that way or find the others first. No, he'd start with Selphie. After all, there was no way of knowing if Irvine would even be free to join them. He turned right, shooting off down the dirt road, being careful to weave between the men and women of the town. He skirted round the market, choosing to take a smaller path that would avoid the busy centre where people would distract him with their calls to try or taste their wares.

Many of the houses he ran between were larger than he would find elsewhere in the town, doubling up as workshops where people not only lived, but also made their living. He did not have to run for long before coming to the building he sought. He could hear Selphie's mother's voice drifting down the street. The door was open, allowing as much light as possible to flood inside, making the workers' tasks clear to see.

He slipped inside, glancing round the room for his friend, but his gaze was halted in the centre of the room where not only Lucrecia stood, but also his mother and Boy. The little blond had new clothes on and the weaver was in front of him checking the fit, chatting away to Raine who stood behind the child.

"Squall!"

The boy in question turned at Selphie's voice, seeing her crouched in the corner with her baby brother. She waved to him and bounced to her feet.

"You're finished." Squall nodded and she grinned, turning to her mother. "Can I leave?"

"Be back before dark, and bring Bartz over here so I can keep an eye on him."

She pulled her brother to his feet, but the boy didn't wait before running off to his mother's side, hugging her waist as she finished with her customer. Following his example, Selphie dashed off, passing Squall on the way out the door.

"Squall."

His mother's voice halted him before he could step outside. Raine walked towards him, Boy's hand in her's, pulling the foreign child so that he stood before her.

"Take Boy with you."

"What?" He looked between the two of them.

"Take Boy with you. It will be good for him to play with other children."

The chief's son looked back at the small boy, who looked just as confused as he did. He liked the younger child, but to have him follow him around all day…

"But he is so small; he will not be able to keep up with us."

"Then walk slower," came the mother's smooth reply. "He needs to be with other children and run around. Be a good son and take him."

To emphasis her point she gave Boy a small push towards the door. He turned back with wide eyes, looking scared. Raine smiled, pointing at her son.

"Go and play with Squall."

The child looked at Squall, uncertainty swimming in his eyes, and then back at Raine.

"Go on, have fun."

He doubted Boy could understand what she was saying, but he clearly got the meaning and wasn't keen on the idea. Unfortunately, Squall knew nothing would dissuade his mother in this matter. She had decided that Boy need to go with Squall and would not be swayed like his father could be, not because of something as petty as nerves anyway.

Resigning himself to his fate, he reached down and took the other child's hand, no point wasting any more time. The blond looked back at him, his blue eyes wide. Squall gave the smaller hand a tug, pulling him from the building and the comfort of the adults inside. Boy gave Raine one last longing look over his shoulder.

Out in the sunshine and warm spring breeze, Selphie waited. As soon as they stepped out she looked them over.

"It will take forever to get everyone with Boy slowing us down. I'll find Quistis and you," she jabbed a finger at the two boys, "can find Zell. We can meet at the temple."

She didn't wait for Squall's nod as she spun round and, hitching up her skirt, ran off down the street. Taking a deep breath he walked in the opposite direction.

"Come on," he said to his companion, still leading him by the hand as they walked down the streets.

Zell was not far away; his mother's workshop faced onto the road that led to the market square. The short walk was done in silence - after all, what was the point in talking to a boy who could not understand him? The strangers they met watched them pass, smiles tugging at their lips or small laughs escaping them, causing Squall's cheek to heat with embarrassment. The closer they got to Zell's, the closer they became to the Market and so the more people they met, adding to his growing self-consciousness.

They heard the workshop long before they saw it, the ring of metal against metal rising above the cries of the market that lay beyond. They slipped between two houses, skirting round the rubbish in their way and appearing not two feet from their destination.

The house itself looked much like any other building around it, but for the small building outside that served as the workshop, a simple building that looked much like the stables outside the Trepe's inn. However, the inside was completely differently. There was no hay, no chocobos with their calm 'wark's and the air wasn't cool. A fire radiated heat that Squall could feel rolling over him with increasing intensity with every step he took forward. The hay was replaced with various iron instruments, the names of which eluded the boy, and no chocobo rested inside, but Ma Dincht beat away at a lump of red hot iron. The hammer fell again, causing another sharp ring to cut the air, as the ore slowly took the shape of a sword.

It was an impressive sight to see the woman swing a hammer, which Zell could barely lift, with such ease and accuracy. Sweat glistened on her brow, strands of hair sticking to her face as they fell free from the braid. The woman was as strong as any man in the town, except from maybe Ward, but Squall's father said that that was why she was such good friends with his mother.

However, it was not a strength that came willingly. Zell's father had died four years ago, leaving Ma Dincht with two choices: beg on the streets or take over her husband's work. So, she picked up the hammer and forged her own future.

Squall felt small fingers tangle in his belt, tugging it and he looked down to see Boy peering round his legs in wide-eyed amazement. The younger child had clearly never seen a blacksmith before.

"You have guests, Zell."

Squall looked up at Ma's voice to see the woman gazing down at them, the iron on the anvil rapidly cooling. He heard his name from a second voice and Zell's head appeared around his mother, grinning widely, a pair of bellows resting in his hands.

Ma nodded. "And he brings company."

She turned and plunged the to-be-sword into the fire, Zell quickly returning to his job. She strode toward the visitors, placing the hammer down as she did so, and towered other the two children.

"This must be Boy."

The child in question's finger tightened around his minder's belt, trying to draw himself as close to the other boy as possible.

Squall ignored him. "Mother told me to bring him with us today."

Ma Dincht smiled down at the blond. "Hello Boy, I am a fr-"

She didn't get any further before the shy child ducked back behind Squall, his face buried in the material of the older child's tunic. Squall looked behind him and then back at his mother's friend, trying not to sigh.

"He does that a lot."

"Timid thing, is he not?"

Yes, and it could get a little annoying at times like these. Still, he could understand this time why the younger one could find Ma Dincht scary, even if the woman wouldn't hurt a fly.

"You came to steal Zell away from me, I assume?" Squall nodded and she looked back at her son, jerking her head in the direction of the street. "Be off with you then, before I change my mind."

She turned back to her work, calling out to the house for another boy to come take her son's place. Zell needed no second bidding, dropping his task he ran, hastily thanking his mother.

"Wait, Zell!"

The chief's son ran after his friend, but he soon forced himself to slow his steps as Boy stumbled to keep up, his hold on Squall's belt tightening even further.

"And make sure you look after the little one."

At the sound of his mother's caution, his friend stopped and impatiently waited for them to catch up, shifting from foot to foot as he did so.

"To Selphie's?"

"We just came from there. She went to find Quistis, we will meet at the temple."

"Race you there!"

He'd barely taken two steps when Squall called out, becoming increasingly annoyed. "Boy can't keep up if we run."

The boisterous youth skidded to a stop and hopped back. He crouched down with his back to them, his hands reaching behind him expectantly.

"Come on."

Boy simply looked bemused. He looked up at Squall.

"Climb up onto his back." He pointed to his friend.

The younger child looked at Zell and then at him, more confused than ever.

"He doesn't understand."

His friend looked mildly put-out. "Can't you do something?"

"What?"

Zell shrugged. "He's your guest."

Squall looked at the younger child beside him and he was struck by a sudden thought. Stepping beside the pale blond, he slipped his hands under smaller boy's armpits and heaved him up. Boy yelped in surprise, trying to crane his neck round to look at Squall. The elder child shuffled forward and deposited his unexpectedly light cargo on his friend's back. Instinctively Boy took a hold on Zell who, in turn, held onto his passenger tightly so he wouldn't fall off. He quickly stood, making his load tighten his grip. Without a second word, they were off, trotting down the street at an easy jog.

Boy's alarm slowly faded as they travelled, his eyes becoming less wide and his smile grew until Zell gave off a small 'Wark', imitating a chocobo. At the sound, the smaller child giggled, the first that Squall had heard from him. At least he was having fun, and this way he could easily keep up with Zell.

The rest of the journey passed easily, with Boy giggling away, Zell managing to keep him on and passers-by smirking as they watched them go. Eventually they stopped by Priest's Bridge and Zell crouched down to let slide Boy off. The older blond stretched his arms high, leaning back slightly as he did so, while the foreign boy bowed deeply.

"Domo arigatou gozaimashita."

Zell beamed down at him, a little embarrassed.

"I've never been bowed to before."

Squall turned, not in the least impressed by such a minor matter.

"Come on, Selphie and Quistis must be on the other side already."

"Beat you by a mile," a bright voice sounded by the bridge, accompanied by a round of laughter. They turned to see the two girls in question crouching by the crossing's wall, Irvine standing behind them while Aerith trotted up behind. "I knew it would take you forever with Boy."

"We weren't that long."

Aerith passed her brother and peered round Squall to look at the youngest member of their group.

"Hello," she offered him a gentle smile.

"Harro," Boy quietly replied.

"Why's Aerith here?" Zell demanded.

"I want to play with Boy as well."

"You won't have fun." Irvine frowned down at his sister. "You won't be able to keep up with us and you'll be left behind."  
She pointed to Boy. "What about him?"

"We already have to look after him; we'll never get anywhere if we have to look out for you as well."

"If Boy can go, then I can. I am older." She turned to her cousin. "I can come, can I not, Squall?"

He did not know why she turned to him; it was not as if he agreed with her anymore than Irvine did. It was bad enough that they would be slowed down by one infant without adding her as well. It was not as if she would enjoy their games.

"You will just get bored," he tried reasoning, "and you will not want to play our games."

"Well, I'm already bored," Selphie exclaimed, skipping past them. "I'll see you by the oak tree."

"Me too." Aerith dashed forward, taking Boy's hand.

"Aerith!" Her brother cried in exasperation, chasing his sister.

"She can play with Boy while we play together." Quistis once again acted as the voice of logic, giving them their solution with a second thought, following her friends as they left the bridge behind them.

Determined not to be the last again, Squall quickly took off after them, but it didn't go quite to plan. He was mid-stride when something large and heavy rammed into his side. He cried out in shock as he went flying off his feet, the world blurring past him until his back collided painfully with the path. However, whatever had bowled into Squall was still firmly tangled with him and the momentum sent them tumbling across the path, forcing him to close his eyes against the dirt thrown into the air. It was all he could think to do in his shock.

Someone laughed, the person who had crashed into him, and it broke his spell. The sound of his friends' cries floating towards him and he found his fighting spirit once more. He struck with his right fist, struggling against the unknown opponent to get on top. He tried to reach out and grab the unknown assailant, but his hands were either pushed away or grasped thin air. Reaching out for something, anything, he finally felt something light brush against his fingers and they snapped around it, pulling hard.

"Owch! That was my hair Squall."

He stilled, pulling his hand back as his eyes snapped open to gaze at the cloudless blue sky. He knew that voice. His ambusher didn't wait though, laughing he sat of top of his victim and pinned him down.

"Aha! Victory is mine. So much for…uh oh…"

Squall's gaze drifted down, taking in the scene around him. Two temple guards had rushed over to come to their young prince's aid, one staff resting against his attacker's chest while the other rest against the back of the youth's head. They weren't the only one who had come to the rescue though. Several town residents had stopped, their drawn swords pointing at the stranger. Between and behind them stood Squall's friends, wide-eyed, scared, nervous and excited all at the same time. A strange woman drifted on the fringe of the fray, her dark blue, almost black, hood pulled down low.

However, his attention was drawn to the raven-haired boy, a year younger than him, who currently had him pinned down. The boy's eyes were wide as they stared around at the weapons hovering uncomfortably close to him. A small 'oops' escaped his lips as the realisation that he'd done something rather stupid dawned on him.

The scene remained frozen, no one daring to move. The adult's expressions were thunderous at the gall of his attacker for laying a hand on their chief's son, while the dark-haired boy was looking increasingly sheepish. He turned his eyes to Squall, silently asking him to explain, to call off the guards. It remained like that until Squall finally managed to get a word out.

"…Zack?"

(line break)


End file.
